


A Glimpse of Ink

by SerephinaRaven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy & Hermione Granger - Freeform, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gay Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry and Draco are Parents, Hogwarts Eighth Year, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Multi, Non-binary character, POC Harry Potter, Pansexual Ginny Weasley, Person of Color Hermione Granger, Post-Hogwarts, Tattoos, Trans Character, harry potter & hermione granger & ron weasley - Freeform, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24714157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerephinaRaven/pseuds/SerephinaRaven
Summary: The 5 times Draco Malfoy didn't ogle Potter's tattoos and the 1 time he totally didORDraco and Potter have established a tentative friendship ever since Potter testified at his trial. Over the years of the friendship they become the closest of friends and maybe a little more.Perfect right? WRONG. They have to admit it to each other before anything happens. With Draco shutting off his emotions and Harry 'oblivious' Potter, who said it would be easy?
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/OFC, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley - Relationship
Comments: 59
Kudos: 366





	1. chapter 1:The trial

**June 1998**

The first time Draco saw his reflection after the war was on a blisteringly hot day in Mid-June, a few days after the Death Eater trials had started. He left his chambers in the ministry holding cells with his hands locked in shackles that bound his magic, with two Aurors escorting him out.

They both grabbed an arm each and directed him towards the lift, to take him to the level where the trials were being held, their grips rough against the sensitive skin of his wrist.

A few years earlier he would have sneered and tried to pry his arms from their grips, drawling about how _father would hear about this_ and put them in what he thought was their rightful place.

 _Oh_ , how the tables had turned.

Now here he was, once promised to live a life of glory at the right-hand side of the Dark Lord beside his father. All that had disappeared when the Dark Lord had died. Killed, by none other than Potter and his band of heroic Gryffindors.

He supposed he was to be grateful to them from freeing him from a life of servitude. But after six weeks of living in a ministry holding cell with little to do and eat, knowing that the Malfoy name would be tainted forever, there wasn’t much left to be grateful for.

The walls of the lift were made of shiny metal, and he could see his reflection in them. He was a shell of his old self. His hair hung thin and pale around his face. He had lost weight, and he looked skeletal. His cheekbones were more visible than usual, and his eyes had purplish bruises under them. Those were clearly from the nightmares of the past few years that had plagued him off late.

The ministry holding cells provided only what he needed to survive. A basic amount of food and water, and bathroom facilities that had only cold water and the bare minimum of hygiene supplies. He had always made it a point to look clean and good, and here too, he did what he could to keep himself clean.  
The clothing was standard grey prisoner clothing, scratchy but not so uncomfortable that it wasn’t bearable.

When he first joined the Dark Lord, he had been honored that he had been chosen for his post. Honored, that out of all the death eater children, he was the first to get the mark.

That all changed soon enough. For years he had been told that Malfoys bowed to no one, that Slytherin was the house of pride, cunning, and ambition.  
But Malfoy pride meant nothing when he had to fall to his knees and kiss the hem of Lord Voldemort’s robes, and Slytherin ambition meant nothing when he was required to blindly follow his Lord’s orders without questioning them. No, questioning meant a crucio to the spine at the very least.

The Dark Lord was skilled in torture, so much so that when he was done with you, you would long for something as sweet as pain, beg for something as merciful as death.

Slytherin was the house of survival and adaptation like its element, water. He had learned quickly enough when he saw the recruits being tortured for defying orders. Keep your head down. Only answer with the affirmative, and address him with the utmost respect. Sink to your knees and kiss the hem of his robes. And never tell the Dark Lord that he was wrong.

So, he did what was expected of him. He adapted and kept himself alive.

The lift dinged, and a woman’s voice announced which floor they were on. The Aurors pushed him out, slightly gruff in their actions. They seemed passive-aggressive, but they weren't openly hostile to him the way that some of them had been when he was in the cell.

  
He walked stiffly, legs not used to the exercise after so many days of sitting idle, and blinked when the bright light of the chambers hit him in the face, trying to clear the blank spots from his vision.

He moved to the lone chair in the middle of the chambers and was pushed down into it, taking in the seats in the courtroom that were slowly being filled in. He wanted to say that he could sit down perfectly well by himself, _thank you very much_ , but he decided to keep his mouth shut and let himself be bound to the chair, Aurors stiffly standing on either side of him.

He saw Kingsley Shaklebolt, who, Draco had heard, been made acting minister in the aftermath of the war and a young blonde who he didn’t recognize at the head of the courtroom.

A woman, who he assumed was doing the interrogation, was sitting in a chair with a desk in front of it a few feet in front of him. The desk contained four clear vials containing a clear liquid he could tell was veritaserum, for interrogating him. She had dark hair and square rimmed glasses, eyes sharp and intelligent as they took in the room. She reminded him of Professor McGonagall, oddly enough.

  
He sat there in the chair, idly twiddling his thumbs, and waited for the chambers to fill. He hoped he wouldn’t be sentenced to Azkaban, _prayed_ that he wouldn’t be exposed to dementors for that long.

He had seen what it did to his father for the year he was forced to stay there and knew he wouldn’t be able to take it.

  
On the inside, his emotions were going haywire and his mind and in turmoil, but on the outside, he schooled his features into a blank, emotionless expression. The famous ‘pureblood mask’ is what he had heard some people call it.

The name fit it well, he thought. Almost all young purebloods were taught how to mask their emotions from an early age.

  
He watched as the people trickled into the room and then looked down at his hands when he saw them staring at him. They were pale and long-fingered, even skinner than usual after prison. He looked at the area where the handcuffs met his wrists, where the skin was slightly red with irritation, and rubbed at it slightly, trying to soothe the ache. He clasped his hands together and leaned back in his chair. The room was finally full.

When the chambers were filled, the woman spoke, her voice amplified so everyone could hear her.

  
“Esteemed members of the wizengamot,” she called out, her wand pressing gently at her throat, “We are gathered here today to witness the trial of Draco Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy, do you consent to be interrogated under Veritaserum?”

The last question was directed at him, and he tried to clear his throat to answer. “I do.” Like the rest of him, his voice was hoarse from disuse and his voice came out raspy and just _barely_ understandable.

One of the Aurors, a sturdy looking woman, took a vial of veritaserum and came towards him. She grabbed his chin with rough hands and Draco opened his mouth for the potion to be poured into. He swallowed the potion, already feeling slightly light-headed as he lowered his occlumency shields and felt the liquid slide down his throat. He licked his dry lips, ignoring the bitter aftertaste left by the potion.

The Woman interrogating him opened her mouth to speak when the doors of the chamber burst open and _Potter_ came through, throwing a sheepish look at Kingsley Shacklebolt before settling down in the seat meant for witness for the accused.

Which in this case meant Draco, but he had no idea why Potter would testify for him, after how much he tormented him when they were younger. Or maybe the saviour couldn’t go a day without saving someone.

That was the only feasible reason Draco could think of. There was no other reason for Potter to want to save him, after all he had done to him.

  
There were murmurs of surprise throughout the hall until the interrogator banged her gavel on the desk, causing all the murmurs to come to a halt. She laid the gavel sideways on the table and leveled him with her piercing gaze.

“State your full name and date of birth.”

Draco felt the veritaserum working and didn’t even try to resist as the words flowed out of his mouth.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, 5th of June, 1980”

The interrogator paused to look down at her sheet and nodded at him.

  
“The list of the crimes Draco Malfoy is being tried for, the attempted murder of Ronald Weasley, Katie Bell, and Albus Dumbledore, being a member of the terrorist organization known as the ‘Death Eaters’ and letting them into the grounds of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and Wizardry on the 30th of June 1997. Mr. Malfoy, how do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

“Were you a willing member of the terrorist group known as the ‘Death eaters’?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“Did you willingly join the man known as Lord Voldemort, knowing full and well what joining him and his followers entailed?”

  
“No.”

There were a few murmurs amongst the crowd and the interrogator paused to look down at her sheet, the gold frames of her wire-rimmed glasses glinting in the light.

  
“Elaborate on that Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco opened his mouth and let the potion do its work.

“I joined the Death eaters because my father wanted me. I never fully knew what being a death eater entailed, and I never wanted to hurt so many people.”  
The interrogator looked back down at the sheet. Next to her was a dicta-quill taking note of everything that was said.

“After you took the mark you knew what you were doing was wrong, why did you not leave his service?”

Draco’s chin trembled. Even thinking about it made dread coil in his stomach, even though he knew the man was dead. He knew that when he spoke, his voice would come out shaky.

“Every time I made a mistake, he tortured my mother in front of me. I stayed to protect her.”

“You aided numerous death eaters when they wanted to enter Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry,” she said, “Were you still a student when this happened?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“You were also of age when this took place. This task had been given to you in advance?”

“Yes.”

“And when did you take the Dark Mark?”

“Summer after fifth year, just after my sixteenth birthday.”

“Noted,” she said, making some notes on the parchment in front of her, “The wizengamot now calls upon Harry Potter as a witness to the accused.”

  
Draco watched as Potter walked down from the seat where he was sitting previously. Normally he should have given his testimony from his seat, but this was Potter they were talking about, so _of course,_ there were no objections to him doing whatever the hell he wanted to do.

Draco took this time to observe him. He looked much healthier than he had during the battle, but that was expected. He was wearing outer wizarding robes and Draco could see a flash of red near his neck, which disappeared almost immediately. The bright lights and veritaserum must have been playing tricks on him.

  
The interrogator turned her gaze on Potter, “Mr. Potter, you will defend Mr. Malfoy after he has admitted to being guilty of all his crimes?”

Potter nodded once. “Yes.”

The murmurs started in the chambers and Potter _rolled his eyes_ before speaking. “Draco Malfoy may have been guilty of your listed crimes, but you neglect to mention all the good that he has done and that he was forced into all of his crimes, with the threat of his mother’s death hanging over him if he failed.”

  
Draco’s felt a jolt of surprise. What was Potter playing at?

He pulled out a big vial from his pocket with silvery fluid floating in it. Draco recognized it instantly. Memories. Potter spoke again, “These are memories of all the people whose lives he has helped save.” He rolled the vial in between his thumb and forefinger. “There are the memories of over twenty people here, myself included. The memories will be projected into the chambers by the pensive. Are there any objections?”

  
Potter cocked an eyebrow at the people in the chamber. At that moment Potter looked every bit the saviour. Rich, handsome and powerful. A woman that looked vaguely familiar spoke up.

“Memories can be tampered with. How do we know that the memories are real?”

A man a few seats down scoffed at her, “He’s Harry Potter, why would he lie?” She must have been a student from when he has in his younger years.

“Harry Potter or not, we need to know if the memories are valid.”

Potter nodded at her thoughtfully, “You're right,” he said, taking out his wand and waving it in the air.

“I, Harry Potter, swear on my magic that these memories are honest, genuine, and have not been tampered with in any way.”

The occupants of the room felt his magic flare out and settle down sealing the bond. He held up his wand. “Lumos.” Potter's magic felt comfortable and familiar, like sitting in front of a fire or being caught in the wind while flying. 

The tip of his want lit up and he put the light out and secured the wand back into the holster on his wrist calmly as if he hadn’t just cast an oath that could have easily taken away his magic.

He nodded at the woman, who opened her mouth and then closed it in surprise.

Not sensing any other objection, he poured the contents of the vial into the pensive next to him and a silvery screen rose and images started playing one after the other in quick succession.

He recognized all of them fairly easily, the first was of Potter in Malfoy Manor, multiple stinging hexes on his face.

  
He looked battered and bruised, and Draco immediately identified it as the day he lied to the Dark Lord about Potter. It showed him failing to identify Potter, and many people sucked in a breath as it switched to the next memory.

It showed him sneaking down to the Manor’s cellars with blankets and food. He passed them through the cellar doors and whispered to Luna, who was a prisoner there. “This is all I could get for today; I’ll bring more tomorrow.”

  
The memories kept changing to show him at Hogwarts helping the students evade capture and torture. It showed him, screaming in pain, being crucio’d by Alecto Carrow for refusing to torture a first-year student.

And it went on and on, showing him healing kids in the dungeons and shielding kids from rogue hexes. It showed him throwing Potter his wand and many people gasped at seeing that it was Draco Malfoy’s wand that defeated the dark lord.

The memories ended and Potter stood there triumphantly while Draco sat there, dumbfounded at what had taken place.

Potter spoke up, startling everyone out of their thoughts.

“Draco Malfoy was a minor when he took the mark. We were all lucky enough to be born into families that opposed Voldemort, but he wasn’t. As soon as he realized that he was doing was wrong, he did everything he could to help fight for our side. He saved my life, and without him, it would have been impossible for me to kill Voldemort.” A few people, Draco included, flinched at the name.

He pulled Draco’s wand our from a pocket in his robe and set it onto the table. Draco’s fingers itched to touch it, to wave it in the air like he first did at eleven years old, and feel the rush of magic throughout his whole body.

Instead, he interlocked his fingers tight enough that he could see the skin being stretched taut at the knuckles.

Potter spoke again, “I suggest house arrest without access to a wand without a wand until November, and then letting him complete his schooling in Hogwarts after that. I remind you all that he was a minor for most of his crimes, and that he made up for it after that. He saved my life, and that of many others,” he continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “He deserves a chance to live his life.”

Draco saw a flash of something red on his neck again. A tattoo, Draco realized.

“Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Potter,” the interrogator said, and Potter nodded at her before walking back up to his seat, footsteps echoing in the silence of the courtroom. She looked at Draco before speaking. “The wizengamot shall keep in mind Mr. Potter’s testimony in the matter of Draco Malfoy. The court will now discuss Mr. Malfoy’s punishment for his crimes.”

  
The woman wrote a few lines on parchment in front of her, and the sound of a quill scratching was the only sound in the chambers for a few minutes.  
The woman stood up to address the chambers.

“Taking into account Mr. Potter’s testimony, we conclude that Mr. Malfoy will be under house arrest until September 1st, after which he will assist with the reparations in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and then attend the school to complete his education. He will report to the ministry once every two months until September 1999.”

She banged the gavel on to the desk and stood up. “Meeting adjourned. We will meet up after lunch to continue the trials.”

The next few minutes blurred together for Draco as someone gave him the antidote to veritaserum and the meeting ended. He realized someone was taking off his handcuffs and was vaguely aware as he was led out of the ministry chambers and into the atrium.

He rubbed his wrists, still slightly in a daze, as an auror told him that they would collect him and send him to a safe house in an hour after the final details had been finished up.

His head cleared as he walked fully into the atrium and saw Potter there talking to his mother. He had heard that her trial had been the day before his and he hadn’t seen her since he entered the ministry more than a month ago. He didn’t even know that she was free, or whether she was alive.

Before he realized what he was doing he was throwing himself at her. _His mother_ , who had protected him and who he had protected. _His mother_ , who he loved more than everyone else in the world.

They gripped each other tightly, her head on his chest. Draco didn’t even try to keep his tears at bay as her arms wrapped around him.

A few minutes later, he and his mother stood up and he realized that Potter was still standing there, politely looking in the opposite direction for their reunion.

His mother spoke up, “Harry spoke up at my trial too, Draco,” she said, her eyes shining, “I will be on house arrest for the next four years, and will stay with you until school starts and during the holidays.”

She smiled at him and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I was just thanking him when you came in.”

Potter looked at his mother, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It was nothing Narcissa,” he said, like calling his mother by her first name was nothing out of the ordinary. Judging by his mother’s expression, it was completely okay with her.

“Andromeda and Teddy will be here any moment, they both wanted to see you and Malfoy” he finished, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

Draco had never spoken to his aunt or her daughter, and last he had heard of her was that her daughter had given birth to a son. He didn’t even know who the father was.

His mother smiled warmly at Potter. “Draco and I will forever be thankful to you Harry,” she said, as a dark-haired woman that bore a startling resemblance to his other aunt walked in, baby in her arms. She walked in with the grace of a pure-blooded lady, her neck and back straight and her head held high.

She stopped in front of them and the two sisters took a moment to observe each other. His aunt Andromeda was slightly taller than his mother, and her skin showed wrinkles around her eyes and mouth; all signs of a good life.

Her hair was slightly lighter than Bellatrix, and her eyes didn’t show the same madness as their sister’s ever had.

She wordlessly passed the child in her arms, a child that had neon hair, Draco realised with a start, to Potter, who carefully lifted the child and cradled it to his chest.

Draco then realized that he had taken off his outer robes and was wearing a t-shirt underneath, the edge of what he had thought was a tattoo poking through.  
He saw the tattoo that looked like a wing on his shoulder and peeking out of his sleeve, and he could vaguely make out the word Weasley in black cursive poking out of his sleeve, and Lavender Brown on his shoulder.

  
Both of them had died in the war, he realized. He would never get the gruesome image of Greyback murdering Lavender Brown out of his head.

He realized that he was staring and quickly diverted his attention to the two sisters, who were still quietly looking at each other, neither making the first move.

  
Then Andromeda spoke up. “In the past months, I lost my husband, daughter, and son-in-law.” Her voice wavered slightly. “I can’t lose you again too, Cissy.” And before he knew what was happening, they were hugging each other tightly, for the first time in over twenty-five years.

Potter inclined his head to the side, “Let’s give them their space Malfoy, come meet your cousin.” He walked away, gently bounced the baby in his arms.  
With one glance to his mother and her sister, he followed Potter, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets. He opened his mouth to say something but he didn’t know what to say.

This was Potter. Potter, who was somehow always there when someone needed the day to be saved. Potter, who had saved _his_ life.

In the end, he just settled for the safest option. “Who will be escorting my mother and me to wherever we are staying?” he said, acting as nonchalant as possible.  
Potter looked up from where he was smiling at the baby in his arms. “An auror should be accompanying you guys. You have a few minutes before you are required to leave though, your mom can talk to Andromeda until then.”

It was so strange to be having a civil conversation with Potter after all these years. He smoothed his hair back self-consciously. “And how exactly do you plan on contacting them, Potter?” Draco asked. “You do realize that we left them halfway across the ministry, right?”

It wasn’t until he said the words that he realized how snide he sounded. Potter had always had a way of bringing out the worst in him. _Well done_ , Draco he thought. _Potter saves your life again and all you can do is be rude to him._

Potter gave him a funny look before answering him. “I’m a wizard, Malfoy, I’ll just send her a Patronus.”

Right.

Potter spoke again “Do you want to meet your cousin?” he asked, bouncing the baby again in his arms.

Draco looked at the baby again and hesitantly took a step forward. He took the chance to observe his cousin. The baby’s hair was neon but changed to a white-blond colour as soon as Draco stepped forward. His hair colour, Draco realised belatedly as he felt his eyes widen in surprise.

“He’s a metamorphmagus,” Potter explained, like had a hundred times. “He gets it from his mum.”

“Nymphadora, Aunt Andromeda’s daughter?” Draco asked, even though he knew the answer. Potter snorted. “Only if you wanted to be hexed.” Draco looked up from where he was observing the baby’s hair.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, as politely as he could. Potter was making no sense.

Potter looked at Draco's cousin before answering. “She hexed anyone who called her that. We called her Tonks, her last name. Only Remus was allowed to call her Dora.”

“Remus,” Draco said slowly, “As in Remus Lupin, our DADA teacher in year 3?”

Potter nodded, “Yes, he was Teddy’s father.” He looked at Draco as if daring him to say something.

Draco’s raised his eyebrows, but he decided against saying anything. “How come you’re here with him?” he asked cautiously. He knew was treading on light ground; he didn’t want to accidentally upset Potter after he had just saved his life.

“Remus and Tonks made me godfather, so I’m just fulfilling my duties here.”

His cousin, Teddy, grinned at Draco and he realised that his eyes were the same shade as Potter’s. “He changes to match whoever he’s near,” Potter explained. Teddy pulled at Potter’s T-shirt at the shoulder, exposing more of the tattoo. It was a bird’s wing.

Potter smiled at Teddy gently lifting the toddler’s chubby hands off his t-shirt. Teddy gurgled happily at Potter and lifted his hands off. Of course, the boy wonder was a natural at taking care of children. What else could he expect from their saviour?

Teddy then turned towards Draco and reached out to him. He hesitantly took a step forward and raised a hand to meet his cousin’s. Teddy curled his hand around one of Draco’s fingers with a surprisingly strong grip. His hands were soft and warm and Draco slowly felt a smile taking over his face.

Potter suddenly looked up. “I’ll send my Patronus to Narcissa and Andromeda,” he said, taking his wand out of its holster on his wrist. “Do you have any questions about traveling back, or your father’s trial tomorrow?”

 _Merlin and Morgana_ , Potter really made it hard for him to hate him. He ached to reply snidely, to say something like _what’s it to you, Potter_? Or something else equally rude, but if Potter was making an effort to be polite, then so would he.

Besides, the git had saved his life and testified for him and his mother, the least he could do was not sneer at him.

He spoke as nonchalantly as he could. “I’m sure there are more details to the sentence than what they mentioned, so I expect that they will give me the full version.” He stopped to think for a moment. “-and I expect that father’s trial will be all over the news, so I will find out the results either way.”

Potter nodded at him and waved his wand in the air, muttering the incantation for the Patronus charm and silvery mist formed from the end of his wand. He cleared his throat, “To Andromeda Tonks, we’re ready to leave, can you meet us at the doorway where we first came through from?”

The mist took the shape of a small bird before disappearing, to find his mother and aunt, he assumed. That was strange, Draco mused, last he heard, Potter’s Patronus took the shape of a stag.

He supposed going through a life-changing event like war would change its form though.

Potter cleared his throat and put his wand back into its holster. He surprised Draco by holding out his free arm out towards him. “I’m tired of fighting, Malfoy,” he said, looking earnestly at him. “We’re both going back for the eighth year, might as well call a truce, yeah? I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Draco looked at his hand hesitantly before surprising himself by taking it. Potter’s hand was rougher and larger compared to his thin hand, and his skin was a few shades darker. “I agree, Potter. My mother seems to have taken a liking to you as well, so we’ll probably see each other more often than you think.” At least that hadn’t sounded snide, Draco thought.

Potter smiled tentatively at him when a swan Patronus appeared in front of him. When it spoke, Draco immediately recognised the voice as his aunt’s.  
“We’ll be there in a minute Harry, you can take Teddy back to your place, he needs to be fed. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

A swan seemed to suit his aunt, Draco thought. Regal, but fiercely protective of its family.

He had heard tales of all three black sisters and their vindictive nature that came out to play when the situation demanded it.

  
Bellatrix’s was her raw power in curses, his mother’s was able to cast a variety of non-verbal spells in quick succession.

  
From what he had heard about his aunt Andromeda, she had a talent for using light spells and everyday spells in creative ways while duelling.

  
Like using Accio to summon a knife through someone’s body, or using wingardium leviosa to levitate a heavy mass to crush someone.

Potter looked at Draco and cleared his throat, startling him out of his thoughts. “I’ll see you then, Malfoy.” He said, awkwardly lifting a hand in farewell, before turning on the spot. Draco saw a flash of red on his shoulder before Potter disapperated.


	2. chapter 2: Never have I ever

**November 1998**

Draco walked quickly through the hallways, carefully staying out of anyone’s way and keeping his head down.

He pulled the hood of his red muggle hoodie over his head, hoping that it would cover the ends of his short hair and prevent anyone from recognizing him.

Thankfully, the eighth-year students didn’t belong to their houses anymore and weren’t required to wear a uniform, so it was easy to hide under the coverage that muggle clothing provided. It also had an added benefit; no one expected him to wear muggle clothing.

After he had arrived at the house assigned to him and his mother for the duration of their house arrests, an auror had read out the terms of their sentence. As soon as he had left, the first thing Draco had done after scrubbing himself raw was to grab a pair of scissors and snip the ends of his hair until the strands just brushed his forehead. He looked a lot more like his own person this way. Longer hair brought attention to the similar features he and his father shared. Shorter hair made him feel lighter, almost as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

They weren't allowed any possessions from the manor, other than books that were strictly non-fiction and one picture or portrait of their choice. Shortly after they had arrived, two Aurors- brother and sister by the look of it, had come to take their measurements for clothing. They were allowed to use one of the minor vaults to pay for expenses, and they had both agreed to wear the muggle clothing that they had been told that they were getting. 

They didn't have the money in their vault to pay for expensive magical robes, and muggle clothing was surprisingly comfortable, as they had found. 

They were allowed visitors for an hour, twice a week. The only people who visited them were his Aunt Andromeda and Teddy, and occasionally Potter, who was now apparently a friend of Mother’s.

He only came two or three times, and Draco had been in his room the whole time, choosing to not confront him. Potter had a way of bringing out the worst in Draco. He had accompanied Draco's aunt for those times, and other than thanking him for testifying for him at the trials and saving him from the fire, they hadn't exchanged more than a few words of polite greeting.

As far as he knew, Potter had disappeared three weeks after the war, after helping to round up the last of the death eaters. Draco’s father had been sentenced to 15 years in Azkaban. It was more like a normal prison than the torture chambers it had been before the dementors were removed.

He had reappeared once for the trials and then left Magical Britain. He returned to Scotland in September to help with the reconstruction of Hogwarts.

Draco had spent most of his time fixing the waterlogged Slytherin dungeons, along with Pansy and Blaise, so he had seen very little of Potter until school had reopened. 

The eighth years, being fully-fledged adults who would have been out in the real world by then, were given fairly free reign, and were allowed to leave and return to the grounds as they pleased, so long as they returned before midnight.

Save Draco and Theo Nott, that was. They were the only two in their year who had taken the mark.

He looked in both directions to make sure that no one was watching him before he swiftly walked the distance to Blaise’s dorm.

The eighth-year students were put in dorms with two people per dorm. He didn’t know who had chosen the pairings, or what their basis was, but he and Longbottom had been put down to share. All things considered; Longbottom wasn’t a terrible roommate.

He kept his side of the room neat and didn’t disturb Draco. He spent a lot of time in the large living room that served as a common room for all the eighth-year students. Each room also had its own bathroom, and there was a kitchenette attached to the living room.

Draco spent most of his time in Blaise’s dorm, where Pansy would join them to study, play a game, or just talk. He would much rather do that than _socialize_ with the rest of his year.

Of course, with his luck, Blaise’s roommate was Potter himself.

Draco kept to himself and his few friends for the most part. He had aided in the torture of enough of his classmates that everyday conversation was _slightly_ uncomfortable so soon after the war. _At least_ while sober, that was.

Once a week, usually on Friday or Saturday, the entire group got together and drank or played party games. They had been denied a normal teenage experience because of the war, and better late than never, right? 

The first time, he hadn’t wanted to go, because he didn’t think he deserved to be there along with the rest of the war heroes. Pansy had all but dragged him there, threatening him with bloody murder if he didn’t show up.

That had been in October, and he got drunk enough that he didn’t remember much of what happened. He remembered apologising, crying (not just by him), and a lot of heart-to-hearts from all of them. It hadn’t been pretty.

He remembered Potter and Finnegan getting into a fight the second time. Potter hadn’t been in the castle the previous year and not many people knew what exactly he was doing to aide in the war, only that it was of immense importance and it left the trio with horrifying nightmares and panic attacks.

He hadn’t seen the horrors of the castle in their seventh year, and Seamus didn’t understand how Potter had nightmares of the castle when he wasn’t present in its worst state.

Potter then started drunkenly listing out every time he had been in danger in the castle, from the entire school body _and_ the whole wizarding world turning on him multiple times and still counting on him, to facing dragons, to watching Cedric Diggory die.

Seamus was silent after that, and by then everyone was at least _slightly_ drunk. Just enough to start talking or rambling with each other. There had been a lot of confessions, whispered secrets, and apologies.

The most dramatic of the night, however, had been Pansy. She had stood up and apologized to Potter for trying to give him up, and Draco vaguely remembered seeing a lot of crying, then hugging, and then more crying. He remembered talking to the group into the early hours of the morning, tearfully apologising for all he had done. Draco was a lightweight when it came to drinking, he spilled his secrets fairly easily.

He remembered hours of leaning on each other and discussing anything and everything. When he woke up the next morning there was a lot of embarrassment and awkwardness among his year mates. But he slowly noticed more and more inter-house friendships and open-mindedness among them. They slowly stopped sneering at him every time they saw him. They slowly started including him in everyday conversation.

It was extremely slow, but after what happened, he was just grateful that he was being given another chance to make things right.

Last night had been the first time that there wasn’t any drunken rambling or apologising, and they played party games with drinks in the living room instead.  
He didn’t want to end up spilling any more embarrassing secrets, but he wouldn’t definitely have protested more if he knew how that game was going to turn out.

**Flashback**

Every single eighth-year student who had come back to finish their education was sitting in the living room for a game of never have I ever, along with Luna and the Weasley sister.

All the furniture had been pushed back to the walls so they could sit down comfortably on the carpet to play. Potter sat on the ground, leaning against the sofa, effortlessly smiling and talking to Luna and the weaslette, who he had casually slung an arm around.

She said something and he grinned widely at her, tugging affectionately at the ends of her bright red hair.

“Okay, guys!” Granger was perched on one of the tables, with her wand in the air. She looked slightly tipsy, her dark cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from the firewhiskeys that she had consumed.

“We’ll all go in a circle asking the questions, if you believe the answer to the question is you, take a drink.” she laughed as Weasley pulled her off the table and next to him on the floor. “The glasses are charmed to refill after they’re emptied. Who’ll start?”

The weaslette raised her shot in the air. “I’ll do it,” she grinned maniacally at Potter. “You really shouldn’t have put dye in my shampoo Harry,” she said shaking her head at him. “I hope you’ll enjoy spilling your secrets.”

He grasped her free hand, “Please Gin.” He said. "Not the _incident._ "

She shot a triumphant look at him before speaking, “Never have I ever had sex with a stranger in the loo of a pub.” She pointedly put her glass on the floor, “Drink up Wanker.”

That was surprising, Draco thought, looking down at his glass. Potter slept with someone in the loo of a pub and it wasn't the weaslette? He felt no urge to drink from the glass and he idly sloshed the liquid around in the cup, as he watched Potter, Pansy, and surprisingly, Padma Patil drink. There were a couple of cheers for the three who drank.

Potter wiped his mouth after downing the shot, “That was one time, Gin,” he rasped, “One time.”

The group of students laughed, a couple of them reaching over to give him a friendly punch to the shoulder.

“Okay I’m next,” Pansy said. She stretched out her legs, making her dress seem even shorter. Draco could see Terry Boot from Ravenclaw eyeing her. “Never have I ever fancied a professor.” There were mutters as a few people took shots. Once again, Draco felt no compulsion to take a drink. All his teachers were either old or completely out of his preference.

There were a few raised eyebrows as Granger took a shot. Her blush was visible all the way up to her ears, even with her dark skin.

A few people hollered as Zacharias Smith took a shot. He grinned widely before addressing the group, “I don’t know about you lot, but Professor Taylor sure Is something to look at, eh?” he put his glass down on the floor. “She has legs for days.” At this point, his speech was starting to sound a little slurred.

There was a slight protest from some of the people sitting around him. Weasley punched him weakly on the shoulder. “Don’t talk about women like that, mate,” he said, sounding slightly disoriented. Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly, did these people have no shame? He expected better from a bloody Hufflepuff.

The questions continued for a few rounds. Some questions were obscenely dirty, and some were pathetically boring. There was only one topic that everyone skirted around deliberately. The war. Draco was perfectly content with answering the random questions that had been thrown at them. Most of his exploits had been during the war so he was _mostly_ sober.

It was all going well until it came to Terry Boot. He looked over the group as if he was contemplating something before speaking. “Never have I ever _been_ with someone of the same gender.” He put extra emphasis on the word _been_ as if anyone had trouble interpreting what he had meant.

 _Fuck_ , Draco thought. Homosexuality wasn’t condemned in the wizarding world the way he heard it was in the muggle world, but some of the more traditional purebloods and muggle-borns were against it. And Draco was _really, really_ gay.

The Slytherin dorms were apparently a lot more exciting than any other one since all the ex-Slytherin males took a drink.

He saw Potter and the weaslette clink glasses and throw back the shots, grinning at the cheers of their classmates in their drunken fervor.

 _That_ was surprising, Draco thought, as he quietly took his shot.

His terrible luck stuck again when someone drunkenly pointed out that he had taken a shot and asked all those who had to tell everyone about it, in the spirit of camaraderie and being open and honest with each other.

Draco sighed, not for the first and _certainly_ not for the last time, he thought, as he watched the few others recount their experiences.

The weaslette shrugged and waved her hand in Draco’s direction. He was startled for a second until he realized that sometime in the middle of the game, Luna had ended up next to him. “Everyone knows Luna and I are dating,” she said.

Draco had no idea that the weaslette was dating his cousin. For fucks sake, he didn’t even know that she and Potter weren’t an item. He turned his eyes on her accusingly and she stared blankly back at him and shrugged, lifting a delicate shoulder. “You never asked.” Was all she said.

He sighed. She had a point. “She better treat you well,” was all he said. She just smiled widely at him and turned back to the group, where Finnegan and Thomas were recounting their experiences together.

Then one of them punched Potter on the shoulder. “Everyone knows our story, Harry.” Well, not _everyone_. Draco certainly hadn’t, and while they were sweet together, he had no interest in learning either. “Spill, mate. You never told us you were bent, give us all the juicy details.”

Potter laughed; a hearty, warm sound. “I’m bisexual, not gay.” He said, “And let’s just say that people weren’t picky about gender at the reserve.”

The reserve? He had no idea what Potter was talking about until Luna leaned towards him and spoke, her hair tickling his cheek.

“The dragon reserve in Romania,” she explained. “He went there for about five weeks with Ginny’s oldest brother, Charlie, for about five weeks before he came here.”

Ah. That explained it. He had his fingers mentally crossed that no one would point out his and his dorm mates' empty shot glasses. It only took a few seconds for _Longbottom_ of all people to bring the attention to them by clapping Blaise on the shoulder. Draco supposed this was payback for all those years of tormenting him. Not that he didn’t deserve payback, though.

Draco leaned back on to his arms and looked over all the drunk students, who were now silent and paying attention to him. He sighed. Looks like he would be doing the explaining, as the least drunk member of those who had been in his dorm that were present. He would rather he explain it as simply as possible, rather than have his dorm mates accidentally spill even worse secrets about him.

 _Goodbye sanity, mental health, and whatever minuscule reputation I have left_ , he thought, raising his magically refilled shot glass in the air. He was _so_ going to regret this in the morning.

“I don’t know about you lot,” he said, “But from what I just saw, looks like the other dorms were _much_ more boring than the Slytherin dorm after lights out.” He threw his shot back, and swallowed, feeling the alcohol burning down his throat.

The circle erupted in cheers and laughter at that, leaving Draco slightly stunned, but he joined them in taking one last shot before the group broke up.

He walked over to Pansy, feeling lightheaded and slightly dizzy, before slinging an arm under her shoulders and helping her to the stairs leading to the room she shared with Granger. He could see some of the people talking and some couples snogging on the couches as he walked up the stairs with Pansy, who was significantly more drunk than he was and just about passed out.

He led her to her bed, before taking off her shoes and kissing her lightly on her forehead, before turning around to leave. He froze when he saw Granger in front of him, leaning in the doorway. She looked suspiciously sober, compared to how drunk she was when he last saw her only a few minutes ago.

She spoke to him softly, eyes glinting slightly in the light from outside the door. “I wanted you to _hurt_ for all you've done to my family and I," she said. "But, you’re all right, Malfoy,” she said, the corners of her lips lifting up slightly in what was almost a smile.

He knew what he had to do. “Granger,” he said. “I know I sent you that letter apologizing for everything I have ever done to you.” For once, he was thankful for the influence of alcohol, so he could say what had been bothering him for a while now.

“But I know I can never make it up to you. My family and I have caused you many grievances and I have treated you horribly. I don’t understand how you can stand to be in the same room as me, much less talk to me. It isn’t worth much, but I have always admired you and I can never apologize enough. I am truly, honestly sorry for everything. I can only hope for forgiveness and you would be perfectly justifiable in not giving it to me.”

He had ended up looking down by the end of his speech, not sure how she would react, so he was startled when he looked up to see her less than a foot away from him.

  
Her personality and attitude had always been so bold and loud that he was surprised when he realized when she barely came up to his chin.

“It’ll take a lot of time to forgive you,” she said, and he was stunned that he was being given a chance at all. “But we were all children caught up in a war that we shouldn’t have had to fight in. You weren’t born into the anti-Voldemort side or raised with an open mind,” she continued, and he was suddenly reminded of Potter’s words in the courtroom all those months ago.

“It will take time,” she echoed her words from less than a minute ago, “And I don't like you. I think you're entitled, prejudiced and a bully.” _ouch._ "It would be nice to see you prove me wrong."

She nodded at him firmly before walking over to her bed and picking up a book and putting it on the bedside table.

“Granger,” he said, and she looked up. “Thank you. I won't disappoint” He walked over to the doorway and was about to leave, his hand on the door frame when he heard her speak.

  
“Malfoy,” he turned around to look at her and she smiled lightly at him. “Call me Hermione.”

He let himself smile back hesitantly, “Call me Draco,” he said, and turned around and walked out.

When he returned to his room, he sat on his bed and rubbed his hands over his face in disbelief. He couldn’t believe the events of the past few hours.

  
He turned his left arm so that his palm was facing upwards and rolled the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, until he could see the entire dark mark, now a faded grey.

He ran a finger over it lightly.

The mark had completely changed his life. It had been the event that made his entire life spiral downwards, and he would regret taking it for the rest of his life. But maybe it was finally time to let go of the past and start living again.

**End flashback**

Every time he thought of his year mates and how they were slowly starting to warm up to him, he felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. All young purebloods were taught not to feel emotions and conceal them, so he was pretty much doing everything that was a giant fuck you to them. Wearing muggle clothing, for one.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that he had reached the entrance to their common room. He said the password and entered, shifting his book bag to his other shoulder.

He was so used to not eating that he couldn’t stomach too much food. At the manor and at school, there was always something disturbing going on. Then he was too agitated to eat in prison, and when he finally came to school, he had gotten so used to not eating much that he couldn’t stomach much food.

The lack of food and his complete lack of physical exercise left him winded every time he had to rush around Hogwarts. He couldn’t even carry his book bag comfortably, even with a lightening charm on it.

He put his books in his room before leaving his room to find Blaise. They were supposed to go over pamphlets for apprenticeships and further education together.

  
He was walking up to the floor above when he saw Potter. Well, bumped into Potter was more like it. Potter had clearly come from some form of physical exercise; he was wearing muggle sweatpants and had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Malfoy,” he said in greeting, before opening the door and walking in. Draco hesitantly walked in. Potter was kneeling in front of his trunk, gathering what looked like bath supplies from it.

Draco didn’t see Blaise anywhere, even though he had said Potter would be going out by the time he came. “Blaise said we would meet here now…?” his voice trailed off at the end slightly.

Potter looked at him and frowned. “He said you would be here after the last period. His class doesn’t end for another half an hour.”

Right. Draco didn’t take herbology, and Longbottom hadn’t been in his room either. “I’ll just come back later then,” he said, turning around to leave.

“No, no,” Potter said. “I’m leaving once I finish my shower, and he told me that you can go through the pamphlets on his bed if you came early.”

“Thanks, Potter,” he said, earning him a slightly weirded out look. _Right_ , apologizing wasn’t something Draco did.

Potter nodded at him before grabbing his stuff and leaving for the showers. Draco grabbed a pamphlet and leafed through it distractedly.

He was suddenly aware that he had apologized to one member of the Golden trio the previous night. He had sent Potter a long letter apologizing and thanking him after their brief conversation in the safe-house, he owed him a life debt. What he had done for him couldn’t be conveyed in a letter.

A few minutes Potter came out of his shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist and Draco pointedly looked the other way while Potter got dressed. He heard Potter walking and deemed it safe to look back up, grabbing another pamphlet from the side table.

Big mistake. Potter was wearing pants and trousers, but he was still shirtless as he trifled through his trunk, presumably for a shirt to wear.

He could see Potter’s very tanned, very fit back with extreme clarity. He was suddenly aware of the fact that they were two not so straight teenage guys in the room. This was one situation where his new resolution to start showing emotions didn’t seem like a great idea.

He saw that what he thought was a tattoo of a wing was actually a huge phoenix that covered most of his upper back and had names written in it in small cursive ink. The head of the phoenix turned itself to Draco’s direction and he heard himself make a small gasping noise.

Potter looked up suddenly as if he had forgotten that Draco was in the room. He saw Draco look at the tattoo and smiled lightly at him. “This was the first tattoo I got, at the end of May.” He continued to rummage through the trunk and the tattoo turned its head back to the other direction and settled down comfortably below the nape of his neck. “I wanted to honor those who we lost in the war.”

Wait, the _first tattoo_? Draco didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until Potter turned his head back to him and sat down properly, this time with a shirt in his hand.

  
“Yeah,” he said, turning his inner right arm towards Draco to see. Terrible idea, now Draco could see his entire chest, and _oh god_ when did Potter suddenly become so fit? He had come a long way from the skinny, pale first year that Draco remembered.

“I got this one two weeks ago,” it was the head of a stag, with lilies interwoven among them. He turned his arm back and pulled on his shirt. Draco looked pointedly in the opposite direction.

He pulled a hoodie on top of the t-shirt and turned to Draco while tucking a pair of keys, a wallet, and a device that looked like a muggle smartphone into his pocket. He looked very adult-like, compared to a few months ago.

“I’m visiting Andromeda,” he said, even though Draco hadn’t asked him anything. Draco nodded distractedly.

This was the perfect chance, even though he didn’t have any alcohol in his system to make it easier.

He stood up and was about to turn away when Draco spoke, “Potter,” Potter turned around and raised his eyebrow at Draco. “I have something I need to say to you.”  
He walked back to where Draco was sitting and hesitated for a second before sitting down on the other side of Blaise’s bed, a good five feet of distance between them.

“I know I sent you that letter, but I feel like I have more to say.”

Potter opened his mouth to speak but Draco cut him off.

“Even though I treated you horribly for all those years you still saved my life. Twice. And my mother’s life too. I don’t know how you have forgiven me so easily when I insulted your dead parents at every chance I got and broke your nose just because I could,” he saw Potter wince slightly at that. “I will never be able to repay what you have done for me. I just wanted to say that I am sorry. So, _so_ sorry.”

He felt slightly shaky by the time he was done. Potter looked like he didn’t know what to say. He was silent for a few seconds before he finally decided what to say.

“I threw a vase into the wall the day I found out that all of our year group would be getting a chance to come back for the eighth year. I didn't think some of you deserved another chance. I thought about it later and it lead to me testifying for you the month after, but I meant what I said in the courtroom. We were all kids, and I was unfair to you too. I humiliated and shamed you too when I shouldn't have. I accept your apology.” He said, “But only if you'll accept mine too. I shouldn’t have treated you so badly when I didn’t know how your life actually was, especially in sixth year. I didn't know what the curse was and regretted casting it the second I saw what it did.”

“I accept your apology, even though I don’t think I deserve one,” Draco didn’t know what else to say. 

Potter stood up and grabbed what looked like a helmet to a bike from under his bed before shrinking it and adding it to his pocket. He looked up suddenly.  
“She asks about you, you know,” he said. “Andromeda.”

Draco felt a slightly warm sensation in his chest. “Send my regards to her too, please.”

Potter grinned at him, and Draco felt the back of his neck heat up.

He had one last thing to say. “And Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Potter grinned at him one last time before leaving the room, whistling the tune of a song he didn’t recognize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scene 2:  
>  a stag’s head with lilies interwoven throughout  
>  stag’s head done in neutral colours with white and red lilies woven through them  
>  three inches long  
>  inner right forearm  
> Professor Taylor is the new DADA teacher :)


	3. chapter 3: by the lake

**April 1999**

Even though it was coming up on a year since The Dark Lo- Voldemort died, Draco still couldn’t eat.

It was the unfortunate effect of a madman taking up residence in his home for a few years. The hallways where he ran down, squealing when he was a child, were now littered with slashed bodies.

The beautiful gardens where he zoomed around on a broom or had tea parties with his mother were now resting grounds for werewolves and practice grounds for dueling with lethal curses.

To see his childhood home, his safe haven to be so horrendously mutilated, to see _his own arm_ so horribly mutilated with a madman’s brand, was in no way encouraging his appetite.

Not when he woke up from nightmares of students being tortured every night. Not when he when into the kitchens only to see Fenrir Greyback grin at him with his unnaturally sharp teeth, tearing raw meat off of bones.

It took him a few months after the battle to be able to eat anything filling or nutritious every once in a while, without it coming back up a few hours later. The quality of prison food had been bad enough. It hadn’t encouraged his appetite.

When he went to the safe house, his mother had noticed, but without professional training, she didn’t know how she could help him.

Instead, he picked at the food once a day and completely ignored it the other two mealtimes. It had gotten bad enough that he felt uncomfortable with food in his stomach, as he’d realized on reopening day during the feast.

He had been too nervous at the feast to care about how much he was eating, and how horrible It would feel coming back up.

He had been getting multiple dirty looks, and he could see people reaching for their wands whenever he walked near them.

He ended up eating what was probably still a rather small amount of food for someone of his age and height.

A few hours later found him leaning tiredly against the porcelain wall in the medium-sized bathroom that he and Longbottom shared.

 _Longbottom_. He hadn’t said anything to Draco since they entered their shared room, but he kept shooting him nasty looks. Every time he did, Draco was reminded that he was the-wielder- of-the-sword, the-slayer-of-the-snake, or whatever they were calling him.

A heroic title to go along with his friend, the boy-who-lived to the man-who-won.

Draco also thought that he saw him ward his bed and his possessions, but he wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Draco had stood by watching as Longbottom had been tortured enough times that he wouldn’t blame anyone if he woke up one day with his meager possessions slashed.

It had decreased in the past few months. He no longer glared at him every time he saw him, but he didn’t make an effort to speak to him like the rest of his year did. Out of all the things Draco did to his year mates, Longbottom was probably the one who suffered the most.

And that was excluding the fact that Draco’s other aunt, the crazy, _thankfully dead_ one, had tortured his parents to insanity.

* * *

When Draco showered or changed, he could easily count his ribs. His cheekbones looked significantly less gaunt than when he had been released from prison, and he didn’t look like a tall, walking skeleton anymore, but he still looked skinny. Slightly unhealthily so.

He often woke up from nightmares gasping and screaming, grateful that he had put silencing wards on his curtains. His stomach growled and he felt hunger pains but he had gotten good enough at ignoring them that they didn’t bother him anymore.

He had woken up an hour ago, seemingly for no reason. He hadn’t had a nightmare in three days, which was probably his longest yet.

He had woken up gasping, clutching at his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything but an apple each day for the past two days, which was _also_ probably a record of his.  
A lot of students had been missing from the great hall lately, with the one-year anniversary of the battle coming up.

Harry had been missing from breakfast and dinner every day for the past week, along with both Weasley siblings during dinner.

He knew that Weasley and Ginevra had been leaving for home after class, to go home to spend time with their families. He had _also_ heard that the Diagon ally branch of the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had been closed until the end of May, only a few months after it’s reopening.

“I’ve been vising Andromeda and Teddy,” Harry had confessed a few days ago during Potions. “the anniversary of the day she lost almost all of her family is coming up. I want to be there for her.”

Draco had expected as much and put down the asphodel that he had been powdering for their potion to listen to him.

“I imagine she’s going through a tough time,” Draco had said comfortingly, reaching up and patting the hand that Harry hadn’t been using to stir their potion. “And so are you. You lost one of your only parental figures too, Harry. You don’t have to be there for everyone.”

Harry had huffed in frustration, adjusting the flame below the cauldron, leaving it to simmer for a few minutes.

“I know. But I’m one of Teddy’s few parental figures and It’s coming up on his first birthday. I saw pictures of the stuff Sirius did for me for mine. It’s practically _family tradition_ to give your godchild a broom on their first Birthday. Sirius couldn’t be there for mine because we were in hiding. I want to be there for Teddy, _and_ Andromeda. She’s becoming as much of a parental figure as Remus was for me.”

Draco hadn’t known what to say for that. He returned to powdering the asphodel. He added it to the potion, watching it turn a navy-blue colour, before turning back to Harry.

“It’s wonderful that you’re doing this for her.” He agreed. “And I never said you shouldn’t. But don’t neglect yourself along the way, okay? After everything, you deserve happiness too.”

Harry’s eyes had tuned suspiciously watery after he said that, and Draco turned back to the potion, stirring it four times clockwise, and seven times counter-clockwise, before he heard Harry speak.

“Thanks, Draco,” he said, his voice sounding slightly scratchy.

He had been grateful that his aunt and Harry had each other to lean on to. He knew that they saw his mother occasionally too, usually for tea in the evening. He remembered a letter his mother had written to him earlier that year.

_My Darling Son,_

_Andromeda and Teddy brought along Harry for their visit Today. I remember him as a scrawny little boy in too big clothes all those years ago in Diagon ally and can’t help but be proud of the fine young man he has grown up to become._

_I am beyond thankful that you both have grown so close. You both needed someone other than your friends to lean on, and I am grateful that you have found that in one another. Harry brought me your gift and it looked beautiful above the fireplace. You know didn’t have to get me a gift, Darling. I am counting the days until I see you._

_Happy New Year_

_Your loving mother,_

_Narcissa Black-Malfoy_

Draco and his mother wrote to each other a few times a week, so their letters usually weren’t too extensive. She had sent him another letter the next day, talking about how Andromeda and Teddy had come along, Harry appearing for lunch to spend time with his Godson while the two sisters spent time with each other.

_It’s wonderful getting to reconnect with Dromeda after all these years. Especially since we were so close growing up._

The past few days of no nightmares had been a blessing. His year mates looked increasingly weary as the anniversary came up closer. He could see more people leaning tiredly against the walls of the kitchenette sipping coffee, with muggle makeup barely covering the dark circles around their eyes.

When he went downstairs in the middle of the night craving fresh air to clear his head of the nightmares, he could see them in the common room, often curled up around each other as they spoke in hushed tones, looking up only to share an understanding look with him before they tilted their heads back together.  
Tonight, however, the common room was eerily silent. There was no one sitting there, and the fire had been put out.

There was no point in sitting there, the darkness would only remind him of those nights in the common room when his façade had almost slipped. When he ignored the calls of the students younger than him who only wanted acknowledgment from the Slytherin’s Dark Prince.

From those days when he quietly pulled his black leather gloves on, turning around and ignoring the pleas of help from the muggle-born students, only to return a few hours later, appearance glamoured, bringing food from the kitchens. He would hold a black-gloved finger up to his lips, smiling comfortingly at the kids and winking at them before leaving.

Rather hypocritical of him, wasn’t it? To give those kids the food they craved to survive, only to not touch a morsel of food himself.

Throughout all those years, the fresh air and flying had been one of the few things that calmed him down, that brought him peace. The wind whipping through his hair had brought back treasured memories of a golden childhood.

He was banned from flying until the end of the school year. Standing outside and letting the wind caress his face, making his hair fly around, was the closest he could get to that feeling of euphoria.

He walked around the grounds, hands in the pockets of the jacket he had haphazardly thrown on before leaving. Lost in thought, he hadn’t realized that his feet were carrying him to the lake until he saw a figure sitting a couple of feet in front of him.

He came closer and realized it was Harry, his hair flying messily in the wind. Harry whipped around when he heard footsteps approaching, stiffening when he saw Draco.

When Draco came closer, he relaxed, turning back to his original position, arms crossed over each other, and wrapped around his knees.

Harry didn’t like being left alone with his thoughts, and he often saw him late at night in the common rooms. Sometimes he and Hermione were curled up around each other, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

Some days he saw Weasley with him, hands wrapped around a mug of hot drink, leaning on each other with tearful eyes.

  
On a lot of the days, it was Draco.

Though they didn’t mean to, Hermione and Weasley both leaned on each other more than Harry, simply because of the nature of their relationship.  
Luna had Ginevra, Dean had Seamus, Pansy had Astoria, Blaise had Theo (though those two were just very close, very platonic friends).

So, most days it was Harry and Draco. They spent the nights on the couches, feet tangled together in the middle, or on the floor, letting the light from the fire wash over their faces, shoulders pressing together.

On the worst nights, one of them would lay their heads on the other’s shoulder desperately needing someone to hold on to.

After one night like that a few weeks ago, Hermione had woken them up. Her expression wasn’t like those of previous times (one of concern), this time she looked amused, eyes dancing with a hand covering her mouth. Harry had fallen asleep on Draco’s shoulder and had somehow ended up with his head on Draco’s lap, with Draco’s hand tangled in his hair.

It had been _slightly_ embarrassing, but no one had said anything about it.

Harry’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “You too? Nightmares, I mean.”

Draco hummed non committedly, leaning back onto his hands and closing his eyes, letting the wind wash through his hair. The beginning of spring was upon them, he could feel it.

The air was silent except for the occasional sound of an owl. Draco could practically hear the sound of Harry stewing on something that was bothering him.

“I can practically hear your thoughts, Harry,” he opened his eyes to look at the man who was quickly becoming his closest friend. “You know you’re supposed to talk to someone when you don’t feel good.”

Harry kicked at a pebble and it rolled down into the water. He waited until the ripples had disappeared until he spoke. “It’s scary how easily you read me sometimes,” was all he said.

“You’re an open book Potter,” Draco teased, nudging his foot gently. “Even a bowtruckle could tell that you were thinking about something serious.”

His face quickly lost all semblance of teasing when he saw Harry turn away and raise a hand to scrub at his eyes quickly before turning back.

Though Harry never said anything about it unless asked, he always felt much better after talking to someone. Draco was always willing to be that person, but no matter how many times he told that to Harry, he never said anything unless asked.

“You are not a burden,” he told Harry firmly. “You can always tell me what’s bothering you, Harry. _Always_.”

Harry wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

Draco knew that he tried to be as small as possible whenever he wasn’t doing okay, as if that would make him disappear.

He _also_ knew that it was a coping mechanism from when he was younger, in his aunt’s house. He didn’t know the full story, but he knew that Harry would tell him at his own pace.

“It’s Teddy’s birthday in two days,” Harry explained.

“Both his parents are dead, and the anniversary of their death is coming up soon. He’ll never grow up with them, Draco. He’ll always have a loving family. But Remus won’t be there to teach him how to use the map. Tonks won’t be there to teach him how to control his morphing. They won’t be there to hold him or watch as he takes his first steps. They won’t be there to take him Hogwarts shopping or stand with him as he gets married. He will always, always be loved,” he said fiercely.

“Just not by them.”

Draco knew that Harry would never let Teddy feel unloved. It wasn’t hard to realize that all of these feelings stemmed from the approaching anniversary of the war.  
“He does have a parent though, one who will never let their memory die.”

Draco held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth, presumably to disagree with him.

“There are all these little things that you know about someone when you spend time with someone.”

Harry didn’t see where Draco was going with this, but he rested his chin in his hand and paid attention anyway.

Draco didn’t give long speeches often, but when he did, he made them count.

“I can tell you those things about my mother. Mother always smoothes her robes down when she feels nervous. She frowns while brushing her hair because she doesn’t like the way it looks when it’s down. She doesn’t like apple juice because it makes her teeth feel funny. She has a bad habit of leaving her scarves everywhere. I can tell you those things about you too,” he continued.

“You hate it when anyone takes food off your plate. When you’re nervous, you untie your shoelaces and tie them again, by which time your hands would have stopped shaking. You like the cold more than the heat because it makes you feel more alive. Whenever you feel like you don’t have enough space, you draw patterns on whatever skin is available with your fingers.”

Draco turned forward again.

“You realize these things when you spend enough time with someone. You don’t know the little things about your parents, because no one ever told you. They glorify the dead, Harry. You don’t know their faults because everyone wants to have a perfect image of them in your mind. Teddy has you to tell him about Professor Lupin and my cousin.”

He tilted his head at him and raised an eyebrow. “I never got to know her,” he said, a little wistfully. “Will you tell me a little about her?”

Harry mirrored Draco, leaning back onto his arms.

“I didn’t know her as well as I would have liked to,” he admitted.

“But I can tell you what I know. She was ridiculously clumsy for someone who was an auror. She could have changed her appearance to make her the most beautiful woman on earth, but she wanted to make people laugh so she changed her features to match her inside.”

He smiled.

“She changed her hair color as often as possible, but she usually cycled back to bright pink because she liked the way it felt. Most people are surprised by this one, but she loved the Beatles, a muggle band, and _absolutely despised_ the weird sisters. The only reason she listened to them or had any of their apparel was because she felt like she had to like them because they were similar to her style.”

Draco felt slightly hollow by the time he was done.

Harry suddenly whipped his head back to Draco. “Do you want to see them? Andromeda, Teddy, and your mother.”

Draco scoffed. “They’re my family, of course, I do. But I read the detailed version of my sentence. I can’t leave Hogwarts until the school year is over.”

Harry hummed, the way he did when he agreed but wanted someone to listen to his explanation.

“I owled Kingsley yesterday,” he confided, his eyes glowing slightly in the dark. “He said that as long as I’m there with you, you can come with me to celebrate Teddy’s birthday. We won’t even be missing classes because it’s on a Sunday.”

Draco felt a sudden rush of affection for the man sitting next to him. He reached over and put his hands on top of Harry's, not trusting himself to speak.

Harry gave him one of his rare, full-blown smiles. “I know, I know. I’m awesome.”

Draco laughed wetly. “Careful Potter, you’re starting to sound like me.”

Harry scoffed, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Draco just squeezed his hand and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. _Oh, how father would have cringed at this show of uncouth behavior, Draco thought gleefully._

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes when he saw something move, out of the corner of his eyes. He sat up straight and looked at Harry’s arm.

There it was, another tattoo.

He sighed. “Another one, Harry? I have nothing against you getting them but you’re going to have to endure Hermione’s lecture on how you won’t have any skin left by the time you’re thirty.”

Harry grinned, the expression looking slightly maniacal in the dark night. “I know,” he stated. “But it’s more fun seeing her reaction when I get one rather than me telling her. She saw it last night.” He frowned. “Well, a few hours ago actually. She sighed in exasperation and muttered something about _idiot boys_ and _no one ever listening to her."_

Yeah, that sounded like Hermione. They were silent for a few more seconds, Draco trying to look at the tattoo out of the corner of his eye when Harry gave him a look.

“You can ask about the tattoo, you know. We’ve talked about the war, for fucks sake. Why should this be any harder?”

Draco made a face at him and scooted closer and looked at the tattoo for a few seconds. It was ink written just below the slight cut of his bicep, in dark red ink, the words _mischief managed_. There was a pair of footsteps walking around it, another wizarding tattoo.

He resisted the ridiculous urge to reach over and trace his fingers over it.

“What does it mean?” he asked hesitantly. They had spoken about much more serious things, but Draco knew Harry’s tattoos were always both meaningful and private.

Harry took a deep breath before starting. “They were called the marauders. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. I’m sure you know who wormtail was,” he added.  
Draco definitely knew who wormtail was. He could see where this was going.

“They all died on separate nights, different years.” Harry continued, “I was present on the night each one of them died. Remus, Peter, Sirius, and James. The resident troublemakers of Hogwarts in the seventies. They were my parental figures, I looked up to them as idols when I heard stories about them.”

He stopped and made a face, “Well, except Peter, that is. He can rot in hell.”

Draco barked out a laugh. He remembered finding out about Sirius Black’s innocence when the Dar- Voldemort scoffed and sneered and the thought of Cousin Sirius being his servant. He had died the same day his father was imprisoned.

Draco felt a pang of guilt at the way he had sneered at Harry after that, taunting him about his Godfather.

“A lot of things in my life happened because of them, not just because one of them was my father,” he added wryly at the look Draco shot him.  
“The way a lot of people treated me.”

He traced an idle finger up his arm, both his tattoo and Draco’s eyes following the movement.

“They had a map, you know. A self-updating, live map of every place in Hogwarts and the people in it. It’s how I could always know where someone was all these years.”

Draco gaped at him incredulously.

“So that’s how you stalked everyone, Potter?” he retorted, raising his arms in a sweeping gesture. “Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived to stalk people.”

Harry laughed, tilting his head back to the sky.

His hair was getting longer, it nearly brushed his shoulders when he leaned back, and Draco could make out the line of his Adam’s apple and the curve of his throat in the darkness, warmth pooling in his chest at making Harry laugh.

He looked at the tattoo again. The footsteps crawled up to the dip in his bicep and continued to move until it reached the end of the phoenix wings poking out of his shirt.

It winded around his arm, stopping to walk around the words written there.

Mischief managed; he had heard stories of the marauders, first from Harry, then from his mother, though she was a few years older than they had been in school.

 _Mischief managed indeed_.

* * *

Harry and Draco had been sitting in comfortable silence for nearly half an hour. It was nearing 2 in the morning, and Draco was sure that they would regret staying up so late when classes started, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Draco only had arithmancy and Potions, and Harry only had potions and an hour under the defence master he was apprenticing under so they could get through the day with pepper-up potions and sheer force of will like they always did.

The silence that they were in was interrupted when Draco’s stomach decided to growl. The grumbling sounded a lot louder than it should have, probably because of the silence of the night.

Harry turned around to look at him, glaring accusingly and Draco froze.

“It’s like you wait for us not to be there during meals so you can forget that you don’t have to eat,” he said accusingly.

He stood up, sweeping a hand down the fronts of his trousers to get rid of the dust.

Harry had noticed him not eating since the eight years were spread around the four house tables.

In the younger classes, it was now compulsory to sit with a member of the other house, so house unity was stronger than it ever had been. No one had a concept of house tables, except for the welcoming feast, Halloween, and the first half of the end of the year feast. Everyone just sat at their friend’s tables.

Harry saw Draco’s face pretty often during meals, given that Draco and Hermione would have hour-long rants or discussions together, leaving Harry and Ron to share long-suffering looks with each other.

Basically, Harry knew that Draco often didn’t eat. And when he did, he barely picked at his food.

“You told me that you ate in the kitchen last night.” Draco looked away guiltily. Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him up, disrupting Draco’s balance in the process.

“Fuck, you’re strong. No need to manhandle me, Potter. I’m perfectly capable of standing up myself.”

“I wouldn’t have to _manhandle_ you if you got up with me, or better yet, ate food by yourself, you bloody prick.” He heard Harry muttering under his breath after that.

He caught phrases like, _Back to Potter, now, huh?_ And something about _stupid careless emotional drama queens_...?

He couldn’t be sure of that one, though it sounded exactly like something Harry would say.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the kitchens,” Harry declared, bending down to grab his hoodie from where half of it was stuffed into one of his back pockets and pulling it on, leaving his hair looking like a literal rat's nest.

He lifted a hand up to flatten it and scowled when it wouldn’t sit down.

“After all these years, you still try to flatten your hair with your bare hands? You’re dumber than I thought then Harry.” Draco smirked.

“Oh, shut up, you try dealing with hair like mine before saying anything.” Harry sounded like a petulant teenager, which, Draco realized, he _finally_ got the opportunity to be.

“I don’t need to try, because my hair is always perfect because _unlike you_ , I actually take care of it.” Draco retorted, reaching an arm up to ruffle Harry’s hair further, making it impossibly messier.

Harry looked up and shot him an adorably disgruntled look from under his rats’ nest of hair.

“Why don’t you just use sleakeasy’s hair potion? Honestly, Potter, your grandfather invented the bloody potion. Most of wizarding Europe uses it. I know you _finally_ checked your family’s investments at Gringotts and hired a regent to manage the finances. How hard would it be to owl order a bottle? You own the bloody company.”

Harry looked up at him and shot him a look. “I think Ginny tried that During the holidays, she has a bottle. It did absolutely _nothing_ to tame my hair.” He grinned up at him. “Lasted exactly twelve minutes if I checked properly.”

Draco sighed exasperatedly as he and Harry entered the corridor where the kitchens were. He reached a finger out and ticked the pear, which Draco still found weird even after two years of knowing about the entrance.

The pear giggled and the door opened. “What do you want to eat?” Harry asked, holding the portrait open while Draco walked in.

* * *

Harry and Draco walked back to the dorms, easy banter flowing in between them. Harry had been _absolutely perfect_. He didn’t shame him for not eating, or force him to eat anything.

When Draco had turned away any heavy food, Harry had given him some simple foods. He passed it over with a knowing look with no pity in his eyes.

Whenever Harry knew whatever to give someone who hadn’t eaten to make an effort to increase their appetite, Draco always gave him a questioning look.

The first few times, when they had still been in the first, slightly awkward stages of friendship, Draco had hesitantly asked him, “Potter? How is it you always know what will come back up and what won’t? Most people just glare at me until I eat something.”

He had shrugged, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I know what it’s like to be hungry,” he had said, effectively shutting down any other questions.

At first, Draco thought he was talking about his year on the run. But when he surfed through his memories of younger Harry, he remembered him always coming to school at the start of every year looking skinnier and paler than he did before.

How he had been the shortest boy in their age group until he hit a growth spurt a few years ago.

He decided not to ask any more questions after that.

The conversation had flowed freely after that, with Harry talking about Dobby, and Draco talking about his mother’s new charity that she was running from her home.

She was thinking of completely renovating Malfoy manor and making it a home for War orphans and residents of the Long-term ward in St. Mungo’s. she wanted them to have a nicer room, rather than a shared room with 20 other people.

Both Harry and Draco thought it was a wonderful idea.

By the time they had finished eating and were walking back to the rooms, it was early morning, the light slowly overtaking the darkness of the sky.

Classes would start in a few hours, and Draco was starting to feel a little sleepy. When they reached the common room, they walked in, waving at Ernie Macmillan and Padma Patil, who were drinking a mug of something in the kitchenette.

Harry climbed up the extra floor to Draco’s room, rather than just leaving to go to his rooms.

They stopped in front of his room. “I’ll owl Andromeda and Narcissa. Let them know that you’re coming, yeah?” Harry asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Draco felt another pang of gratitude. “I’ll owl mother, she’s expecting a letter from me anyway.”

Harry nodded at him, and Draco turned around to open the door of his room.

“Get some sleep Draco,” Harry whispered, and Draco wasn’t sure whether he imagined Harry’s hand on his lower back or not.

**INTERLUDE**

**HARRY’S POV**

“So that’s how you stalked everyone, Potter?” Draco retorted, raising his arms in a sweeping gesture.

“Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived to stalk people.”

Though he was making fun of him. Harry felt happy because Draco was gaining back some of his old snark and confidence, just without any of the bite.  
It was hard to see his powerful rival of so many years become so subdued and accepting of the cutting remarks he thought he deserved. He was glad that Draco felt comfortable enough around him that he could tease him without any awkwardness.

When he reached his arm out for a truce in June the previous year, he had just wanted to end their now pointless rivalry, wanting to finally have a stress-free year.

He would have never guessed that such a beautiful friendship would have bloomed from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The books refer to James as tall, and that Harry is the same height as James by his seventh year.  
> The next one will be up same time next week, and takes place almost a year from this chapter  
> § the words mischief managed in block print and footsteps like on the marauders map  
> § mischief managed in dark red and the footsteps in black, that move all over his bicep  
> § words are small, written horizontally across his outer right arm near the cut of his bicep  
> the footsteps are about one-inch square together.  
> enjoy :)


	4. chapter 4: the last day of training

**SCENE 4**

**AUGUST 2000**

When Draco woke up, the first thing he noticed was how bright the lights were. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell the blinds were opened, and he would _murder_ the person who didn't close it.

His head was throbbing like someone was pounding at it with a sledgehammer, and his mouth tasted like something had died in it.

The next thing he noticed was that he usually got up before the sun rose so that he and Harry could go on a run and make breakfast before DMLE training, and that he should not be feeling or seeing the sun when he woke up.

He shot out of bed, cradling his aching head with one head and pushing his blankets aside with the other. He filled his bedside glass with water and drank, nearly crying from relief when he saw a vial of hangover potion on the table next to his wand.

He downed in one go, sighing in relief as he felt its effects.

He could hear harry rushing around in his room; he had probably slept in too.

They _should not_ have drunk so much last night at that muggle nightclub.

He cast a Tempus charm and swore when he saw how late it was.

As soon as he finished hurriedly casting some cleaning charms over himself and brushing his teeth, he heard Harry yelling outside his door.

“Class starts in twenty minutes; I have milkshakes for us to take on the go.”

Draco grabbed his robes and all but ran down to the kitchen, flipping off a laughing Sirius in his Portrait. Harry looked just as disheveled as he felt, his hair sticking up in all directions reminiscent of his early school days, and the buttons of his robes only half done.

Draco could see the corner of the phoenix tattoo peeking out at his neck.

Harry made an apologetic face at Draco. “I overslept too, we _should not_ have gone to that nightclub last night,” he echoed Draco’s thoughts from a few minutes ago.

Draco just shot him a tired look, clearly agreeing with him. He did _not_ have the energy to talk, at least not until he had some food in him.

Harry handed him a milkshake in a bottle and waved his wand over the kitchen area as Draco grabbed their coats and bags, which they had packed the previous night before leaving, _thank god_.

They had only one class today in the morning, to wind up whatever they learned on the last day before exam results and specializations came out, but it was two hours long and started in fifteen minutes.

Draco shouldered his bag and held Harry’s out for him as they rushed out the door, Harry locking it by muttering the words to the wards under his breath.

Draco clutched Harry’s arm as he apparated them to the section of the ministry where their classes took place, and they both handed their wands over for inspection before they entered their class.

The ministry had been very particular about people entering it, especially since so many people had broken in and infiltrated it in the past.

 _Cough_ , Harry, _cough_.

Draco had an apparition license, but Harry had an Order of Merlin, First Class, and could apparate directly into the ministry because of his savior of the wizarding world title.

Draco may have made fun of him for it all the time, but he could appreciate it’s benefits, especially when he was benefited from it too.

It was their last non-specialized class. Next week, specialization results were out, and they would choose or be assigned their department, ranking, and partners, depending on their exam ranking.

* * *

After his last duelling basics and tactics class, Draco felt slightly nostalgic and bittersweet as their training group walked to the locker rooms to change.

Harry was chatting with Susan Bones, walking next to him and Draco was getting his gym clothes out of his bag

He felt this feeling every time he ended a year of Hogwarts, especially after eighth-year. He felt it whenever it was his or one of his friend’s birthdays, and every time he saw teddy more grown-up than the last time.

It reminded him of when he was younger and had just started training. It had taken top of the year grades for him to be let in DMLE training, and he had come home exhausted, bruised, and sick every day for four months until he moved in with Harry and he made him get some professional help for his eating problem.

He had started out near the bottom of his practicals class, with Harry moving up fast through the ranks.

He had fought tooth and nail, studied through nights, and practiced duelling for hours with Harry after training until he felt well enough to survive classes without fainting afterward at home from hunger and exhaustion.

When he finally felt well enough and had enough meat on his bones, he threw himself into duelling and hand to hand combat with everything he had, clawing up to the near top of the leader boards.

Harry had been with him every step of the way, and they had only grown closer when Ron had left training. He was beyond grateful to have Harry as a best friend and a roommate, though he did notice that he and Harry acted a little differently than the rest of their friends did together.

Harry had never called him mate like he did when talking to Ron or Finnegan. They were pretty physical with each other, though that was probably a result of Draco’s upbringing as a pure-blooded heir and Harry’s less than stellar childhood.

He was beyond thankful that at twenty, he was finally living comfortably, working with something he loved, and being able to eat a healthy amount of food for his age and amount of exercise.

* * *

Harry dueled like he did everything else. He threw himself into it, letting the movements and instincts take over, ducking and twirling and firing off spells in unbelievably quick succession.

Looking at him fight was like looking at the sun.

Harry was like a leopard, broad and strong, with a predatory gaze and unexpected grace when needed. His duelling style was distinctive. He never shouted the spells like had when they were younger, instead, he whispered them or dueled non-verbally, which made him an extremely tough opponent to beat.

When he did hand to hand, he was all brute force hitting at the perfect angle and _bloody hell, his punches hur_ t. He was unexpectedly good at dodging blows and had extremely high endurance, often running on absolutely nothing but grit to finish a fight.

Draco had a completely different approach to fighting. While Harry was broad-shouldered, with thick ropes of muscle down his arms and back, Draco was tall and wiry, all square shoulders and narrow hips.

He was fleet-footed, the fastest runner of their training group, slight and agile.

He had seen memories of himself fighting, and if Harry was a leopard then he was a snake.

Quick strikes and fast-moving.

They were perfect in training simulations together, watching each other's backs and covering each other’s weaknesses the way only two people that were that close could.

When they first started training, it had taken all of five minutes of watching Harry and Draco duel in a simulation to pair them up indefinitely.

It was easy to see the way they moved to protect each other, even though they didn't recognize it themselves until someone else had pointed it out.

Draco had seen outside memories of him and Harry dueling, and he had to admit, they made a stunning pair to watch. Harry's raw power in magic and Draco's fleet-footed grace were unmatched among the trainees.

When they fought hand to hand, they were pretty even in terms of strengths. Physically, Harry was stronger. He also had an uncanny ability to dodge hits, probably stemming from his childhood with the Dursleys.

Draco was so quick with his strikes that his opponents rarely saw the hits coming before it was too late.

This time, Harry had the upper hand. The fight ended with Harry straddling Draco's lap, his forearm against his throat. The fight had lasted well over 20 minutes, and both of them were breathing heavily. Draco could feel sweat slowly trickling down his neck, and grimaced at the feeling.

He really hoped that Harry would get up soon, or else he would be in a rather awkward situation. An extremely attractive man who happened to not be straight, straddling his lap. Also, said man was his best friend, who he happened to live with.

 _Yeah_ , that would be awkward.

It wasn't like they hadn't ever been in an uncomfortable sexual situation though, there had been a couple of bar nights with their friends where they had drunkenly made out. Those two or three times, they had been drunk enough that Draco wasn't sure if Harry remembered, but he had vague memories of it being the best snogs of his life.

It wasn't like they hadn't ever had people over for the night, or the few, short-lasting relationships that Harry had. He was attracted to Harry, sure, but it wasn't bad enough that he would risk the amazing friendship that they had.

* * *

Harry winced as someone jostled his side, pushing past him to rush to the shower rooms. He tenderly touched his fingers to the left side of his abdomen, looking slightly startled when they came back bloody.

He gently lifted the side of his shirt off, and Draco sighed, frowning slightly at Harry’s tendency to not notice his injuries because of how often he got injured, before waving his wand and healing the injury.

Harry smiled gratefully at him, lifting his shirt slightly higher to heal the bruise above his injury with a quick episkey, and waving his wand once more to clear the blood above it.

Someone wolf-whistled, running their finger over Harry's naked side, before slinging a towel over their shoulder and going to the shower, laughing.

Harry flushed, throwing a clothing item at their back as they laughed, entering a shower stall.

This wasn't an uncommon occurrence.

The DMLE trainees were all fairly touchy with each other, having spent multiple nights together, pouring over textbooks for their quarter yearly exam, dancing, or rather grinding together at clubs, spinning around each other in training simulations, or betting on who could survive best on 3 hours of sleep after shadowing senior DMLE members at a stakeout.

Ron had held that record until he quit training to join George as a businessman at the shop a few months earlier, and the mantle had been passed down to Harry, who held the title proudly. They were a close bunch and casual touching was nothing out of the ordinary for them.

Draco saw what looked like a line on Harry's side, and he swatted Harry's hand away before he could let his shirt fall back down, lifting the hem higher. When he saw what it was, he sighed. Not an uncommon reaction while dealing with Harry.

"Another one? Really Harry?"

Harry looked at him sheepishly, grabbing his clothing and muttering a wandless cleaning charm over himself.

"I would absolutely love to explain this to you," he said, not sounding like he wanted to explain anything to him at _all_ , "But I have that meeting with Teddy's future teacher in half an hour so I'll see you at night."

Draco knew the meeting was important, and he knew Harry would have a good explanation for it when he came back. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Harry to get any tattoos, but he could see that they were addicting and thought that Harry needed to slow down a little.

Besides, if Hermione knew that he knew about Harry’s tattoo and didn’t tell her, she would be really, _really_ pissed. And Hermione was scary as hell when she was pissed.

Draco flipped Harry off over his shoulder as he rummaged through his bag for his clean clothes.

"Whatever, Potter.” He snarked, “Just make sure to buy some eggs or I'm locking you out of the wards until you return with them. We’ve been surviving on rabbit food for the past three days, for fucks sake."

He heard Harry laugh, and tossed a galleon behind his shoulder, knowing that Harry would catch it.

They had a pretty stable arrangement. Since Harry owned the house and had bought all the furniture from when he moved in a few years ago, Draco paid for the groceries unless Harry was already outside when he needed something.

They had argued a bit about it, but Harry had insisted that Draco was his best friend and wouldn't take any rent, especially since he owned the building. This had been their compromise.

It had been a little strange for Draco, he thought as he showered, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and reaching for the conditioner.

Grimmauld place had been clean and nice but barren when Draco had moved in, with Harry not having time to make it a home rather than just a house. That had been because of the stress and exhaustion of starting DMLE training.

Now that they were mostly adjusted to their schedule, Draco and Harry's little trinkets had slowly made their way over to their house, making it more homely.

There was the little dreamcatcher like trinket that Luna had bought them when she travelled the world with Ginny, from Peru hanging over the doorway. It made a little tinkling noise every time someone walked in.

There were the mugs in the kitchen that looked like plain mugs but had little dragons painted all over them when you turned them around that Harry had brought when he, Draco, his Aunt, and Teddy had gone to France for Teddy’s second birthday.

They had brought an extra one as a laugh for his mother too, who was still under house arrest.

Then there were the photos.

Their living room was covered in photos, of Draco and his parents when they were younger, and one with Harry and his parents when he was a baby.

There were pictures of Draco and his Slytherin year group, Harry and his band of Gryffindors, and one of all of them on their last day of eighth-year, smiling wide with arms slung over shoulders in the grounds of Hogwarts.

There were a couple of Harry and Teddy, one with Draco holding Teddy for the first time on his first birthday, one with Harry and his mother smiling that was clearly taken at some kind of Gala when neither of them was looking.

There one really nice candid of Harry, Ron, and Hermione for Hermione’s twentieth birthday, where all of them were happy, grinning faces with arms wrapped around each other.

One of Harry's favourites was one of him and Ginny, dressed in what Draco’s father would have termed ' _rebellious muggle garb for delinquents_ ' on Harry's motorbike, with him grinning devilishly back at her, one of her arms wrapped around his waist and the other hand pumped into the air in excitement.

Draco always thought that Harry looked like a startling combination of his parents and Sirius when he rode a motorbike or grew out his facial hair.

Draco had a similar picture with Pansy, only in a club. Harry had taken one look at the picture and commented about how Draco looked like a _"bloody angel,_ " with his pale skin and hair, and silver eyes that almost looked like they were glowing in the light of the nightclub.

Pansy's eyes were gleaming and her painted lips were tilted up in a dangerous looking smirk. Both of them had that photo framed and kept it in their respective living quarters, though they didn’t talk about it, or their feelings in general.

“We’re Slytherins, Potter,” Draco had scoffed. “We don’t talk about feelings or cuddle when we feel sad.”

Harry had rolled his eyes and teased him endlessly every time he saw that photo.

“Sure,” he had laughed, “Tell that to all the photos on the walls. Don’t even try to pretend that you don’t have a framed photo of all of us in your room.”

Draco's favourite photo, however, was a small collage of pictures of him and Harry that they had collected over the past two years.

There was one where Harry and Draco were wearing old, paint-covered clothes. Both of them had been nineteen, sticking their tongues out at Pansy, who had been lounging behind the camera while they painted their basement.

There was one where both of them were leaning against each other, tired grins on their faces after their first stakeout, with Draco's arm slung around Harry's shoulder.

That one was probably his favourite, and they kept it framed over their mantelpiece as a reminder of how far they had come since their first meeting in Madam Malkins nearly a decade ago.

As much as he loved the man, Draco would actually _murder_ him if he returned home without those eggs.

* * *

"I can't believe you got another one without telling me. Honestly, Harry, we live together for fuck's sake. How did you even hide this from me?"

Harry shrugged, reaching to close the door behind him, toeing off the loafers that Draco had forced him to buy.

"Hermione asked me not to tell you. Ginny came with me because she wanted one too. One thing lead to another and now all of our friends have a bet on how long it would take for you to figure it out.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated. He took a deep breath.

"Please tell me Pansy or Blaise didn't win. They are going to be _absolutely insufferable_ if they win another bet."

"I would have thought that you would be disappointed in me for letting them bet on my life _again_ , but I'm glad you know that I have _absolutely_ no control over that."

Draco whacked him on the back of the head with the newspaper he had been reading, walking past him to their kitchen and rummaging in the fridge.

"I'm offended that you even need to think that, you tosser. You say that like we haven't been living together since we were nineteen," he said, grabbing the milk carton and putting it on the counter.

"Who did win the bet though?" he asked, not even trying to mask the naked curiosity in his voice.

Somewhere, in an alternate dimension, seventeen-year-old emotionless Draco was cringing _hard_.

"Ginny," Harry grinned. "She has our schedule and knew we had hand to hand today. She reckoned something would happen there. She also won herself 50 galleons."

Draco scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Last week, when you _supposedly_ went for a movie with that muggle you were chatting up in that coffee shop. Was that when you got it?"

"I wasn't chatting her up!" Harry exclaimed, hanging his coat up on the hook next to their door "But yes, that is when I got it. It's on my bloody torso, Draco, I wasn't going to rip my shirt off randomly to show you. I'm not some impulsive teenager."

Draco rolled his eyes, throwing a loaf of bread at Harry. Harry caught it without looking at it and placed it on the kitchen counter. "You've been twenty for ten days, you bloody prick."

Harry waggled his eyebrows at Draco, tugging at the knot of his tie, loosening it before joining Draco at the stove.

He handed Draco the eggs that he had brought on the way home from a meeting with the teacher from the pre preschool group of kids that Teddy was going to join the next May.

Andromeda wanted to start working again and someone needed to look after Teddy on the days that Harry or Mrs. Weasley weren't available.

Someone _also_ needed to explain Teddy's lack of control of his hair colour, and Harry decided that it was godfather's duty.

"Beat these, I'll put the bread in the fridge. Ron and I are having a competition to see who can bake the best cake for Ginny's birthday tomorrow. We need to make this her best birthday yet, especially since she's leaving for tour in a few months. No sugar or frosting though, or her trainer will murder her."

Harry's face morphed into an expression of mock-seriousness, clearly in imitation of Ginny.

Draco hoisted himself onto the counter and cracked the eggs, discarding the eggshells and beating the eggs in the bowl.

"You may be a bloody fantastic cook, but we will never beat Ron in cake baking," He admitted, somewhat grudgingly.

Harry shot him a look and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing tanned forearms.

He grabbed a bunch of ingredients and deftly started mixing them, occasionally reaching up to their cupboards to grab an item.

Draco moved to hop off the counter to the fridge to get food dye but stopped when he felt Harry grab his upper arm.

"No, no, we can't put any dye in. Ginny sent me a list of the foods she can eat pre-season when she started dragging me into her workouts. She won’t eat any if there's dye in it."

Draco snickered, remembering when Ginny had decided that Harry would be her workout partner.

Harry had returned home nearly every day with extremely sore muscles for a whole month until he slowly got used to it.

However, when they started the physical unit of DMLE training, it had paid off and Harry easily jumped to the top of the class.

He finished beating the eggs, probably the only thing he could help with, and hopped off the counter, pushing the bowl in front of Harry.

Harry spared him a fleeting grin before going back to the mixture in front of him, frowning in concentration. Draco didn’t know what the prize was, for baking a better cake, but he knew it had to be huge. Harry and Ron’s bets always were.

He decided to retire to the living room until Harry was done. There wasn’t much he could do to help; he only knew the basics of cooking and Harry was a better cook anyway.

Harry was an excellent cook and finally learned how to enjoy cooking when he and Draco had moved in together last December.

Before Draco had moved in, Harry had lived together in Grimmauld place, with Ginny popping in and staying in one of the rooms whenever she wasn’t on tour with the Holyhead Harpies, as their reserve chaser.

Draco and Luna had lived together in a flat a couple of blocks away. It had been an easy enough decision to make since they were cousins.

Luna’s mother, Pandora, had been Draco’s maternal grandmother’s sister’s daughter.

They had met a few times as children, and grown closer as adults.

They passed for siblings, or even twins, very easily. They were both tall, fair, and willowy, with light eyes and hair so blond it was nearly white.

Draco’s hair was more of a platinum colour, and Luna's was a slightly dirtier blond

Luna's father was been in the long-term facilities in what had once been Malfoy manor, recovering from an accident with a magical creature that he refused to tell anyone about.

Ginny had moved in with Luna once their relationship had hit the one-year mark, and though they now had the flat, Luna usually went with Ginny on tour, using it as an opportunity to study different creatures.

It made perfect sense for Draco to move in with harry.

Grimmauld place was large and comfortable, now that it had been completely renovated. Once Draco had moved in, they had converted the large basement space into a training area, to practice what they learned in DMLE training.

The training program had been rewritten after the war when they realized how much more the trainees needed to know before going out into the field. They had added in more theory, more hand to hand combat lessons, and added in another department.

Now, under the DMLE, there were four sub-departments; the hit-wizards, the Aurors, the investigative department or the ID, and the guards.

The hit-wizards got the most action. They were always at the ministry’s beck and call, and their work was mostly capturing criminals, rescuing people when they were in sudden danger, breaking up duels and fights in the public, that kind of work.

The Aurors covered the black market and smuggling cases, stuff where they had to track down their suspects or travel to different places to solve a crime. They were sort of the in-between for the hit-wizards and the investigative department. 

The members of the investigative department were the ones who tracked down the missing people, looked at memories, and did all the forensics and detective work. They were the detectives and inspectors of the wizarding world.

If a case went on for longer than four months, it was handed over to the Unspeakable department.

The guards were the ones who, _well_ , guarded. They protected high profile people in events, were stationed around sights of crime, guarded Azkaban, and protected people who were related to cases in the DMLE.

All of them went through the same training for the first year, and the last two would be specializing and shadowing senior members of the department they chose or were assigned to.

All four departments worked closely together, and their teams usually consisted of two people from each department

They were all fairly similar, with slight adjustments in training and specialization to make sure that they covered all the areas of crime.

Draco had written the exams for the auror department the past month, along with the investigative department exam the month before that, _just in case_.

Harry had written the exams for both of them as well, just because he had enough of constantly fighting crime and wanted to do some research and detective work as well. Both the auror and the ID had a reasonable amount of detective and research work, so he would be okay with getting in either.

Draco secretly hoped that both of them would end up in the same department. If they were, they were bound to be partners and there was no one else Draco would trust to have his back in a dangerous situation.

Harry came to the living room a few minutes later, flopping onto one of the plush armchairs that they kept in their living rooms.

He sighed. “You’re right,” he sounded defeated, far more than he should have for a cake baking competition. “There’s no way I can beat Ron. He has Molly’s training.”

Draco closed the book he had been reading on Nicholas Flamel’s life. “Then you shouldn’t have bet on it, whatever the consequence is.”

He rubbed at his neck, pulling his tie off completely, tousling his hair. Draco was suddenly reminded of a night a year ago, down by the lake, when Harry had looked eerily similar to how he did now.

He hadn’t changed much since he was eighteen. He had filled out a bit, and grown his hair a little longer, and left the scruff on his face grow out a little more often.

The first time he had, Ginny had snickered at him, calling him, “Hairy Potter,” for _at least_ a week afterward. 

He had yelped in outrage and threw the nearest object at her.

Both she and Draco had agreed though, he looked older and more mature that way.

Harry had asked Ginny if he should shave it all off, slightly uncertain.

Ginny hat slapped him on the back of his head. “Don’t you dare, Potter, it looks hot.”

Draco had privately agreed.

“What is the tattoo anyway?” he asked.

Harry unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

He pulled the top part of his shirt off, showing the right side of his ribs. It was a constellation, Draco realized. Glowing dots in the shape of Canis Major, joined by a thin line forming a constellation. It was small, but Draco could clearly make out the star at the head of the constellation, Sirius, glowing brighter than the rest.

Draco just smiled at him, nodding once to let him know that he understood it’s significance.

Harry pulled it back up, getting off of the sofa. “I’m changing into pajamas,” he called over his shoulder, walking out of the room.

Draco hummed non-committedly, stretching his legs out and opening his book again.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t staring at my Godson, cousin.” Draco almost jumped, his DMLE training the only thing preventing him from shouting in surprise.

He looked around until he settled on the portrait of Sirius Black that was hung up near the entryway.

He rolled his eyes. Sirius usually switched between his vaults, where Harry’s grandparent’s portraits were, Aunt Andromeda’s house, and Grimmauld Place. He also had a nasty habit of speaking up and surprising people when they least expected it.

“He was showing me a tattoo, cousin. Of course, I was staring, I wanted to see what it was.”

Sirius shook his head. “You were _staring_. As in admiring, little Malfoy. Don’t pretend you weren’t.”

Draco rolled his eyes in a way that would have made his father twist his ear in punishment.

“Go back to whatever hole you crawled of; you’re imagining things. Looks like the famous Black insanity didn’t miss you after all.”

Sirius laughed heartily, clutching his stomach. “You should be careful kid; you might catch it too.” He looked at him thoughtfully. “You're not that bad though, _much_ better than Lucy or Cissy ever were.”

Draco just raised an eyebrow at him and returned back to his book. When he looked back up, Sirius was gone.

Draco had only spoken to Sirius’ portrait a few times. When they moved in, and he had all but interrogated him, and on a few occasions, he walked in when Harry was talking to him.

* * *

Draco thought about his life, as compared to a few years ago. His childhood had been golden and white, angelic. Running through fields of wildflowers, splashing in pools of water in Paris, touring the cobbled streets of Rome.

As he grew older, the white slowly started to shift to grey. The days of running through wildflowers turned to walking regally down the halls of school, sneering at those he thought below him.

Splashing in pools turned to kneeling on the floor, biting his tongue to keep from screaming as pain as he was branded by a madman.

By the time he was seventeen, the grey rapidly shifted to a jet black, with screams of children being tortured haunting his dreams and running through a battle hoping his parents weren’t hit by green light, clutching his mother’s wand.

From eighteen to twenty, his life had slowly gone back to grey, lightening until it was nearly white. He had lost people and still had people sneer at him and occasionally throw things at him in the streets. He knew it was nothing he didn’t deserve, however.

Things were better now, and he had his family by his side.

**HARRY’S POV**

Harry remembered. He remembered the flashing lights and a slight smell of alcohol and sweat in the air as they moved their bodies to the loud music. He remembered the taste of vodka on Draco’s lips. He remembered hands reaching out for each other and warm breath ghosting across his jaw with their hips slotting together.

He didn’t think he could ever forget. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- the stars as glowing dots in the position of the constellation of canis major with the star Sirius brighter than the rest.  
> -The dots are joined by a thin line in dark blue to form the constellation  
> \- The tattoo is on the right side of his ribs  
> -The tattoo is small, but the stars glow and shine  
> read and comment please, constructive criticism is appreciated :)


	5. chapter 5: Another Day, Another Raid

**AUGUST 2003**

Draco grinned at Harry as he nursed his head. Harry had tried to fix the shelves above the kitchen counter himself, rather than calling in a handyman or someone qualified to do the work. 

The shelves had been broken in a party that they had hosted two nights earlier, and they needed to get them fixed.

"I feel like making a savior-of-the-wizarding-world comment right now, but I'll probably get hexed so I'll refrain from doing that," Draco laughed, one hand on the counter that he was leaning on.

Harry groaned. "Shut up, we have a stakeout tomorrow with the trainees and I can't go in like this. They look up to us, and I'd like to keep it that way, so _for the love of merlin_ , can you please heal my head."

"My, my Potter," Draco said, twirling his wand between his fingers. This was _hilarious._

"The golden boy can't heal a simple head injury himself?" oh yeah, this was way too fun to stop.

Harry hopped off the stool, nearly losing his balance and crashing into the fridge in the process. "Yes, yes, Golden boy can but he doesn't want to accidentally explode his brains so he would like his partner whom he trusts very much to do it for him instead," he snapped, without any malice.

As much as he liked teasing Harry, Draco knew he was right. He walked closer to him and gently grabbed Harry's jaw. Merlin, this was doing _things_ to him. 

He gently waved his wand over Harry's head, wand just brushing the tip of his hair, murmuring the incantation for a healing spell.

Harry sighed in relief, eyes fluttering closed. 

From this close, Draco could see the top of Harry's head and his long dark eyelashes as they fluttered against his cheekbone. He could see the slight indent that Harry's glasses made on his nose. From this close, the only thing stopping them from sharing the same air was the few inches of height that Draco had on Harry.

He released Harry's jaw; he hadn't even realized he was holding it. Harry opened his eyes, not seeming to care that they were in such proximity, and hoisted himself onto the counter. Draco could see his arms flexing as he did the motion, and felt irritated at the stab of heat it sent through him.

He looked at Draco expectantly. "You told me that you would cook tonight."

Draco put his wand on the counter next to Harry. 

"Did I?" He asked, feigning nonchalance. "I can't seem to recall doing so, how terrible."

Harry scoffed, picking up Draco's wand.

"That's horseshit, we both know you weren't _that_ drunk. Besides, I injured myself and broke my last record of how long I could stay without being injured, so you have to cook."

"That's shit analogy Potter," Draco said, but he was already taking the pans out.

Harry just grinned at him and idly tapped his thigh with Draco's wand, little sparks shooting out of the tip of the wand every time it hit his thigh. His and Harry’s magic was so similar that they often used each other's wands without realizing it.

“I’m not very hungry though,” Harry said a few minutes later. Draco put the mixing spoon down. 

“And why is that?”

“I went with Ron and Mione for their cake testing earlier today, remember. I ate a _lot_ of cake there.”

Draco hummed. “What did they select?”

“Triple chocolate,” Harry grinned. “Would Ron select anything else?”

Draco switched off the flame on the stove. “I spoke to Luna earlier today; She and Ginny are in Versailles. Ginny is horrified by the idea of her wedding becoming some huge fancy affair. She said they want a small, personal ceremony.”

Harry laughed, idly running his fingers over the grooves of Draco’s wand.

“Ginny told me that she doesn’t want to turn into a bridezilla like Hermione is. When I get married, I’m just going to elope.”

Draco felt a pang in his chest. “The combined forces of my mother, Aunt Andromeda, and Mrs. Weasley will be devastated.”

Harry waved his hand dismissively. “Nah. They’ll understand.”

Draco looked at Harry’s hand, the one that was holding his wand. He didn’t know what to say, and even though the silences between them were never awkward, he felt the need to say something. 

He grabbed his wand and cast a Tempus as a pretext, turning his attention back to the stove. “Ron has an appointment for his wedding robes in half an hour. It would be dreadfully inconvenient if the best man was absent from it.”

Harry swore, jumping off the counter and grabbing his wand from the table nearby. 

“We already got them fitted, we just need to make sure they tailored them correctly. I’ll be gone an hour tops. Don’t finish the food please.”

Draco smiled, though Harry couldn’t see him. “Of course not, Potter. God forbid someone should prevent the chosen one from eating his food. The world shall perish.”

Weak, but it was the best he could do. It hadn’t been long since he had realized that he was in love with his best friend. It wasn’t an ideal situation to be in, especially considering they were roommates.

The attraction had been there for a few years. It had always been inconsequential enough that Draco had found it easy to push away. Harry had had only one serious relationship since they graduated Hogwarts, and it had ended amicably a year ago.

The witch in question, Althea, had been a good match for Harry. She was a hit-witch, a year older than him. She had transferred from the French ministry, and both of them had been very close, their relationship spanning nearly seven months.

No one knew why they had broken up. Both of them refused to say anything about it. Draco had been a little miffed that Harry hadn’t told him, but he hadn’t pushed. They were still friendly with each other when they saw each other at the ministry, though they made it a point not to hang out with each other or their friend groups.

Draco had had only one or two short-lived flings. Not many people were eager to begin a relationship with someone who was branded by a criminal.

He wasn’t opposed to going home with wizards, or muggles who he met in clubs. 

His romantic attraction in Harry had started shortly after Harry had broken up with Althea. He had started noticing Harry in ways that he hadn’t before.

It was excruciating, but Harry meant the world to Draco. He was going to be there in whatever way that Harry needed him.

If it meant in a friend's capacity, while he pined away from afar, then so be it.

* * *

“I didn’t think Ron was going to be this panicky, y’ know,” Harry waved a forkful of Pasta in the air. “I mean, he and Hermione have loved each other for so long. They’ve practically been married for years now.”

Draco tucked his feet under him. “I know, but weddings make people go-”

He was cut off by both of their wands beeping, in the synchronized tune that meant that they had an emergency of their hands. 

Both of them looked at each other, all traces of humor gone. 

“Six beeps,” Harry whispered, waving his wand to send his food to the fridge. “The raid tomorrow, someone must have tipped them off on it.”

Draco held his wand arm out and both of their holsters came zooming into his hands. He tossed one to Harry, and they both got up, wordlessly turning off the lights and grabbing a small model of a nutcracker doll, an emergency portkey that would take them to the ministry to be debriefed.

He noticed small changes in Harry while they were on the job. Harry, normally cheery and sarcastic, stood up straighter, shoulders stiff when he was on a raid. His words were harsher, and he seemed almost cruel sometimes while doing interrogations, unless the person that they apprehended was younger than twenty. 

They landed in their joint office that they had been using since they were assigned each other as partners a year earlier, and rushed to the Head Auror’s office for debriefing.

Potions smuggling cases under investigation could go wrong pretty easily, especially considering that they usually didn’t know the potion or the smuggler that well.

If they were being called in on their day off, it must have been pretty bad.

* * *

Draco held Harry's limp hand as the conducted the final tests on him. If a raid had gone wrong and Harry ended up in St. Mungo’s, Draco usually just finished up their paperwork and went to the hospital gift shop to buy some ridiculous looking flowers for him.

After they fixed him up and visitors were allowed, Draco would walk in, usually drawling about how Harry should have a permanent room in the hospital because of how long he ended up there.

This was the worst Harry had ever been injured, though. He had taken a sectumsemptra to the chest while protecting Draco. They had anticipated a dangerous stakeout for the high priority smuggling case that they had been assigned a week prior. 

It had been _much_ worse. 

The smugglers in question had been death eater sympathizers and wannabe Dark Lord blood purists. 

Cutting curses like sectumsemptra had been a favorite of the death eaters, Draco knew that. He had just never expected that he would ever come in contact with them or their methods again.

He had rushed Harry into the hospital with their emergency portkey, leaving Aurors Johnson and Bones to secure the culprits that Harry and Draco had stunned, milliseconds before Harry had jumped in front of the curse Heading Draco’s way.

Draco had come as far into the hospital as he could, face pressed against the glass of the room so he could see what was happening. There were flurries of robes and blood. 

_So much blood._

As soon as the surgery had ended, a good two hours after he had brought Harry to the hospital, the healer had tiredly called him in.

He had been extremely surprised since a patient's next of kin was the only person allowed in before visiting hours. He would have expected Harry’s to be Ron, Hermione, or Ginny, or maybe Andromeda since she was somewhat of a surrogate mother to him. 

Next of kin worked differently in the magical world, since so many people had been lost in the two dark lords within fifty years of each other situation.

An auror listed their two next of kin when they were sworn into the ministry, and their friends and family list was given to St. Mungo’s, and they were the only people allowed to visit them in the event that they ended up in the hospital.

Harry and his mother were listed for Draco, though he had never been in a life-threatening situation after starting fieldwork, or a situation where they had needed to be called in to make decisions for him when he couldn’t.

The beeping of a monitor brought Draco back to his senses, and he felt Harry's hand move slightly, as he got up, groaning.

Draco sagged in relief. Harry was going to be okay.

He released Harry's hand and pressed his forehead into the cool sheets of the hospital bed, relaxing for the first time since the attack. 

He felt Harry's hand in his hair, slowly carding his fingers through it the way he did for Teddy when he was sad and looked up. 

Harry gave him a weak smile, "At least we'll have matching scars now," Harry's voice was gravelly, and it sounded like it hurt to speak. Still, Draco had never been as relieved to hear someone’s voice in his entire life.

Draco laughed wetly, pressing his face further into the sheets. "I'm still hotter than you," he mumbled into the mattress.

Harry simply stopped moving his hand and caressed Draco's cheek instead. His hand was rough from a lifetime of fighting.

"I've never argued with that," his voice was teasing but Draco could hear the earnestness in his voice.

He couldn’t do this. Not so soon after Harry had nearly died in his arms.

Draco stood up, his chair making a scraping noise as he got up. 

He saw Andromeda approaching with a squirming Teddy in her arms, and made a split-second decision, grabbing his robes from where they were discarded on the chair.

He knew that he was cockblocking himself, but he squashed down his feelings and yearning and decided that it could wait. His priority was making sure Harry was safe. 

"I'll get cleaned up and bring you some clean clothes."

Harry just nodded, looking at Draco with the kind of intensity that made his chest ache. Draco reached forward and ran a hand through Harry's hair one last time, feeling the coarse strands between his fingers.

Harry leaned into the touch and closed his eyes.

Harry had nearly _died._ He had been injured countless times since they were kids, but this had been the worst since the war. He couldn’t imagine his life without Harry.

_Fuck_ , he didn’t even want to _think_ of a life without Harry.

Draco slung his robe over his left arm and walked out of the hospital room, not daring to look back.

* * *

"He loves you, you know," Draco nearly choked on his tea. Pansy's dark eyes glinted at him in amusement.

Draco wiped his mouth, leaning back in his chair. He arched his eyebrow at his best friend. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He knew exactly what she was talking about.

She barked out a short laugh. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Draco. You look at each other in a combination of 'I want to rip your clothes off' and 'I want to wake up with you every morning.’ I can’t decide whether it’s sickening or adorable to watch."

Draco sighed, dropping his act. Pansy was his oldest friend, there was no use trying to lie to her.

"It's a passing attraction at best, Pans. I don't think he could ever love me. Besides, we live together. If something happened then I would be losing my best friend too."

Pansy reached over the table and put her hand over Draco's in an uncharacteristic display of affection. 

He could feel the coolness of the metal of her engagement ring on his hand. All his friends were getting married. 

Ron and Hermione were getting married in a month, Luna and Ginny got engaged last month, Pansy was getting married next year to a fellow editor in the prophet.

It was only his left. Him, and Harry. 

Pansy spoke, her voice softer than he was accustomed to hearing her. 

"I've seen the way he looks at you, darling. So has everyone else. Ginny would murder me if she knew I was telling you this, but she had a similar conversation with him. You never know when your life or the life of someone you love is going to end. Don't waste this opportunity, you deserve happiness too."

Draco felt his heart speed up, and he smiled at Pansy.

"You shouldn't have gotten engaged," was all he said. "You're going all soft on me now."

Pansy scoffed, waving her hand in the air dismissively, the diamond on her ring flashing distractingly in the light. 

"I'm only doing this to keep you guys from pining. Honestly Draco, it's driving me mad."

Draco sighed. "You and the rest of our friends have a bet on it, don't you?"

Pansy smiled into her coffee. "I saw Mrs. Tonks leaving the room. That means it’s free now. If you finally grow some balls and kiss him within the next three hours, then I promise to split the money with you."

Draco smiled at her, pushing his chair back and throwing back the rest of his coffee. 

He looked expectantly at her, but she just waved him off, cutting into her pastry. “I’ll still be here when you come back gushing and squealing. Just go Draco.”

He turned to leave when a thought occurred to him. “I saw another one while undressing him before the blood stuck.”

He saw her confused look. “A tattoo,” he clarified. “Did he tell any of you about it?”

She shook her head, looking genuinely confused. 

“I didn’t hear anything about it and I was over at Ron and Hermione’s flat before I got your call. They would have mentioned something.”

He frowned, running his free hand through his hair distractedly.

“I’ll ask him about it then,” he said, walking away.

“Make sure to declare your undying love to him first,” He heard Pansy call out to his back.

He just flipped a finger at her, hearing her laughter as he headed up the floor that Harry was on.

456, 457…. 470, The higher the number of the room, the more dangerous the injury. He had felt a stab of panic when they had admitted Harry into a room with so high of a number.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the panic he had felt when he saw the smugglers rip Harry’s chest open with the curse that starred in his nightmares.

He reached Harry’s room and stood in the doorway. He could see Harry in the room, sitting up, with pillows propped up behind him, staring out of the windows. 

Draco could see the bandaging around his torso. He knew that the cuts must have been healed over by now and that the bandages were just to keep him steady, but he still worried.

He didn't turn around when Draco walked in but he could see the way that Harry’s shoulders stiffened when he undoubtedly heard his footsteps.

Draco put his bag on the chair that he had occupied earlier and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, toeing off his shoes and crossing his legs. 

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

Harry hummed contentedly, closing his eyes. Draco hesitated for a second, and slowly started running his hands through Harry's hair, the way that Harry had earlier. 

Harry leaned into his touch.

"How do you feel?"

Harry's lips tipped upward slightly. "Like I've been tortured and cut open multiple times." he turned over, turning his bright green gaze on Draco. "But I feel better now."

The unspoken _because you're here_ didn’t need to be said, both of them knew it was there. 

They sat together in silence for a few minutes, Draco still running his hands through Harry's hair before Harry spoke up.

"Did you know," he asked, "That we have major communication issues that we should have sorted out years ago?"

Draco felt a sudden stab of nervousness in his stomach. 

"Pansy just laid into me," he answered. "I'm assuming she told you about the bet?"

Harry looked in the other direction and swallowed. He was silent for a few seconds, and Draco felt his nervousness dissipate. This was Harry, who he knew better than any person on earth. Harry, who knew him better than anyone else did.

When he spoke, his voice was soft, but Draco could hear the resolve in it. 

"She did," he stated. 

Harry turned his head around, and before Draco realized what he was doing, he pressed his lips to the tip of his dark mark, which was only a few inches away from his face.

Draco felt Harry's slightly chapped lips move against his arm as Harry spoke, and stopped moving his hands through his hair, choosing to move his hand down to his cheek instead.

"And I'm okay with letting her win it." 

With that, Draco moved his arm away and leaned forward instead, pressing his forehead against Harry's. His eyes were open, and Draco could see them looking into his, searching them for an answer. 

When he spoke, he could feel Harry's lips against his. "Me too."

And with that, He cupped his hand around Harry's jaw, feeling the rough stubble under his hand, and kissed him.

There were no fireworks or cheers, but Draco could feel Harry smiling into the kiss, and the warmth in his stomach slowly spreading. And that was enough.

Draco pulled away, and Harry rested his forehead on Draco's collarbone. He could feel Harry smiling, and laughed, slightly giddy with relief as he rested his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"I feel like we should talk about this," Harry said, his voice slightly muffled. "But all I can feel is relief and I just want to stay like this for a while."

Draco just shucked off his outer robes and gestured to the side, asking Harry to move. Harry scooted over complyingly, and Draco laid down next to him, staring at the ceiling. He could feel Harry looking at him, but didn’t say anything about it. 

They stayed like that, in silence, sides pressed against each other for a minute, before Draco spoke again. 

This time, his voice was shaking slightly.

"When I saw you thereafter you were hit with the curse," he said, swallowing, refusing to look at Harry. 

"I have never felt that much fear in my life. I've lived with Dark Lords and been under that curse myself," Harry flinched slightly, "But I have never, ever been that terrified. Fuck, Harry, I don't know what I would have done if you didn't make it." He scrubbed a hand over his face. 

"There was just so much blood and- "

Harry cut him off by pressing his lips against Draco's neck. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into his skin.

Draco suppressed a shiver at the and he could almost feel Harry's smugness, but neither of them commented on it because of the seriousness of the situation.

"But I saw the curse coming for you and I just… couldn't see that happen to you. Not again. The first time was bad enough."

Draco glared wetly at him. "I'm pouring my heart out to you Potter, the least you could do is let me finish."

Harry hummed into his shoulder, and Draco stared back up at the ceiling.

"What I'm trying to say, you absolute _Prick_ , is that I love you," he felt slightly shaky, and Harry stiffened against his shoulder for a second, and then relaxed, his free hand tightening against Draco's waist.

"I have for a while; in case you didn't notice. And I don't know if you feel the same way, or If I've ruined everything-"

Harry cut him off again by kissing him and this time he turned Draco's head towards his and kissed him more firmly.

If the first kiss made him feel warmth, then this one made heat start to pool in his stomach. Pretty inappropriate for the situation, but completely out of his control. Not when Harry kissed him like _that._

Harry kissed him long and hard, and his face was annoyed when he pulled back.

"I haven't made it clear enough since you're doubting yourself so much, you melodramatic prick," he teased, echoing Draco's words from earlier.

"I love you too."

He leaned in again, and this time Draco tangled his hand into Harry's hair pulling them closer together, almost desperate, Harry's glasses pushing against Draco's cheek, and his arm moving further down his back.

They pulled apart, foreheads resting together. “Don't think we aren't talking about the tattoo,” Draco muttered, pressing his thumb just above Harry's hip where he knew the tattoo was. Harry shivered slightly.

"Keep touching me like that and I'll tell you anything you want."

Draco laughed, a proper, happy laugh of relief. 

They were going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since it wasn't mentioned in the chapter, here are the details of the tattoo:
> 
> A small black and white owl with amber eyes  
> Small, just above his right hipbone  
> One and a half inches square  
> When touched, she opens her wings
> 
> I realize that this chapter deviates a little bit from the summary, but oh well, at least there's some solid Drarry content haha
> 
> Leave me a comment and tell me what you think :)


	6. chapter 6: throughout the years

**FEBRUARY 2004**

**Draco POV**

Draco could feel Harry’s breath against his neck as they tried to unlock the supply cupboard.

Harry swore, his hand shifting from Draco’s hip to the door, muttering a wandless charm that should have unlocked the door. “Why do I feel like Susan did this?”

Draco scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because she’s sick of walking into your office to see us making out?”

“This could be Ginny’s doing too. Ever since they got back from the honeymoon, she’s been pranking everyone non-stop.” Harry grimaced. “It could also be because of what happened yesterday.”

“Oh yes, what happened yesterday.” Draco snarked. “Did you have to sing that song?”

Harry shook his head at Draco in disappointment, removing his hand from the door and returning it to his waist. “It’s a tradition Draco. I’ve been doing it every year for five years.”

Draco sighed, turning to face Harry and looping arm around his neck. They were on break for another thirty minutes anyway. “I know, I’ve seen it all five years. You knew she would get back at you some way. And I do think this is Susan’s doing, she looked annoyed today morning.”

Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s in a chaste kiss. “Either way, I don’t regret doing this.”

Draco smiled. It had been six months since they had gotten together, but Draco still wasn’t used to being able to kiss Harry whenever he wanted.

It had been long nights of stumbling into their house, frantically removing clothing. They had moved Draco’s stuff into Harry’s bigger bedroom and had spent many mornings lazily curled around each other as the sun rose. Draco was possibly the happiest he had been in his entire life.

“Neither do I.”

* * *

The song had become a tradition for Harry every Valentine’s day. Every year for the past five years, Harry would find Ginny wherever she was, and sing the song at the top of his voice.

It was hilarious. They would see each other, and Harry would clear his throat, standing up straighter.

He would then belt out the lyrics to the poem Ginny had written for Harry in their second year, while they chased each other around one of their houses.

Yesterday, Ginny and Luna had floo’d over in the morning for Harry’s cooking, and she had chased him all around the house as he screamed the lyrics.

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad; His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord”

Draco had smiled into his coffee as Luna had tended to the abandoned food, the cousins sharing looks of exasperation as their partners ran around the house.

After they had finished their antics, Harry had plopped down next to Draco, kissing him quickly before digging into his breakfast. It had been their first Valentine’s day together.

They had spent the rest of the day walking around London together and then curled up on the couch as Draco read a book and Harry read the rule book for the Investigative Department for the third time.

He had found his home.

**AUGUST 2005**

**Draco POV**

Draco walked into the ministry, nodding and smiling at those who greeted him. For some time, it had been sneers and slurs. It had taken a while for people to treat him as _a respectable member of society,_ as one woman had put it. 

He pulled a file out of his messenger bag, giving the completed paperwork to the young man at the front desk to store. It had been an exhausting case, and he already had another one, but the week-long vacation that he had gotten after it had been worth it.

Draco had grown up with money, and now that his family had regained some of it, he liked to spend it on lavish holidays for his family to enjoy.

Harry, who hadn’t grown up with money, still felt slightly uncomfortable when people spent money on him.

Their compromise was that they would take two holidays a year; one with their family, and one with just the two of them.

For his holiday, Harry had surprised Draco by whisking them away to the Caribbean, where they spent seven blissful days among the wizarding population there.

It had been wonderful, days spent lazily making out in the bedroom of the villa, swimming in the clear waters of the sea, sightseeing and touring the area.

Their last night there, Harry had surprised him with a candlelight dinner. It had been out on the beach, as the sun was setting.

It was comfortable and warm, with both of them teasing and jabbing each other as they ate.

It hadn’t been perfect, there were some lovely bug bites that both of them had acquired, and one of them had knocked over a glass of wine in the dark. But Draco wouldn’t have had it any other way.

In the end, while they were walking down the beach, Harry had pretended to see a shell in the sand and kneeled to look at it. Draco had been too full and content to be annoyed, but he still sighed.

“It’s dark outside Harry, I know you’re obsessed with collecting souvenirs, but it baffles me as to how you could want one-”

He had cut himself off when he saw Harry below him.

Harry had propped his wand up in the sand next to him, and its tip was glowing brightly.

He was kneeling in the sand, holding a small black box, Draco could see a flash of white from his teeth as Harry grinned up at him.

He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and could only stare down at Harry. They had discussed marriage; it was only inevitable in a relationship as serious as theirs.

Until he mentioned being okay with getting married a few months ago, Harry had known Draco had been slightly uncomfortable with the idea of getting married.

He had gotten more comfortable with it now, with the multiple Weasley children, his goddaughter Dominique included. He and Fleur had bonded, being French-speaking and blond among the chaos of the Weasleys.

Harry looked warmly up at him.

“Of all the people in my life, you’ve _always_ been there. As an enemy, as my best friend, as my auror partner. As my boyfriend. You’ve always been there in whatever capacity I’ve needed you. Now, I need someone to spend the rest of my life with, as a husband,”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat with that word.

“Marry me, Draco?”

It was so cheesy, so typically _Harry_ that Draco had to laugh, pulling Harry up to his full height and resting his forehead on his shoulder.

“Yes, of course I will,”

Harry had laughed in relief, sliding a ring onto his finger, and wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist.

Draco had returned the gesture, and they had just stood there, running a finger over the ring on his finger in awe for a few minutes.

When they had gone back to their room, Draco had seen it properly in the light.

It was silver, with a small, square-cut diamond in the middle, two small emeralds on either side of it. It was simple enough that he could wear it on raids or while working without It being damaged. It had a small engraving on the inside, _all that you are is all I’ll ever need._

He had also had what was probably the best sex of his life after that.

It had taken all of twelve hours after they went back home for the press to get wind of it, a picture of Draco’s hand with the engagement ring making the first page of the prophet and the witch weekly.

Today, as he walked through the ministry a few days later, he saw his hand getting a few looks, but no one approached him.

He could hardly believe it, he was _engaged._

The first person other than family to congratulate him had been Susan. She had grinned at him as he entered their shared office, putting their new case file on the table.

“I’m so happy for you Draco,” she said, as they walked towards the coffee room. “After everything, you deserve happiness.”

Romantic partners weren’t allowed to be Auror partners, so Harry had quit the Aurors and applied to the Investigative division a few years ago when they had initially gotten together.

The auror work had been getting repetitive for him, especially after all the new, post-war reforms had been finalized. He had joined the Aurors to create some change, and now that it had been created, he didn’t want to risk his life as much as he did.

He had often felt restless and fidgety and ended up in the hospital more than he was comfortable with.

He had met the requirements for the department easily and was now moving up the ranks fairly quickly.

No one would have made as good of a partner to Draco as Harry, but Susan was a close second. She was ruthless and efficient with her work.

They were walking to the interrogation room to take notes on a criminal’s information for this case. They knew that man in question had a partner, but so far, he hadn’t said anything about them.

Their current case was a missing murder case, so the ID was working with the Aurors to solve it.

Harry was doing interrogations today along with his partner, a woman in her thirties that reminded Draco strongly of McGonagall.

The entered to room, and Harry nodded in greeting through the one-way glass, Cassandra, Harry’s partner, locking the man’s handcuffs in.

Harry couldn’t see Draco and Susan, but he knew that someone from their department was there.

Draco loved watching Harry during interrogations.

He was excellent at them, words harsh in a way they never were outside work. He had drilled himself on techniques, pouring over them at their dinner table at night for hours during training.

He saw Harry circling the target, a Twenty-something-year-old. Harry was talking to him in low tones and Draco couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his expression was clear enough.

He dragged his chair from the opposite side of the table, and moved it away, choosing to perch on the table instead, while his partner exited through the back doors to speak to the guards that had brought him there.

Harry’s expression was stony as he interrogated the man, and Draco understood why.

The criminal and his partner had been keeping a little girl hostage, draining blood from her every full moon.

The Aurors had come onto the crime scene to find the girl dead, her body completely drained of blood with multiple bruises on her person. The man’s partner had been nowhere to be found.

Harry always got affected more negatively than usual when it was a child as a victim, most likely as a result of his childhood.

He was still speaking to the man in low tones, now gazing down at him with one of the most controlled looks of rage Draco had ever seen in his life.

Draco made note of the man’s reaction as Susan recorded the interrogation. The man had slowly paled, and now he was fidgeting, his hands rubbing over a raised scar on his wrist.

Draco and Susan couldn’t hear most of what was going on, but they would go over the interrogation together, and then send their information to the ID.

The man suddenly pleaded up at Harry, saying something that Draco couldn’t understand, but seemed along the lines of ‘She’ll kill me’.

The Aurors usually made note of the physical reactions leaving space below to write a more detailed analysis of the information later. The ID would then use that information and the locations given to look into it further.

Harry looked up at the screen separating them, inclining his head towards the door.

He wanted one of them to assist, and with a few quick waves of her wand to automate the recorder, Susan walked in, hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, uniform buttoned over her slacks.

She and Harry looked almost comically contrasting. Harry’s hair was long and tied up in a bun a little below the crown of his head. His robes were open, revealing a button-down and a loosely tied tie untucked over his slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Susan’s clothes were similar, but her tie was perfectly tied and tightened, her shirt pressed and tucked in. Her bun was tight, and at the nape of her neck.

Both of them looked equally intimidating though, with crossed arms and stony gazes, expertly extracting information from the suspect.

Susan took Harry’s place on the table as he walked around the room, interjecting every few seconds to add on to Harry’s questions. It was only a few minutes before the man started to tremble, spilling out the information they needed.

Draco made note of the way he continuously rubbed at his wrist and seemed to shrink onto himself every time he mentioned his wife.

Harry exited the room a few minutes later, slumping as soon as the doors were closed behind him.

Draco wordlessly held an arm out to him, and Harry leaned against him gratefully. He saw him pull the hair tie out of his hair, and run his hands through it for a few seconds before putting it back up through the corner of his eye as he watched Susan wrap up the interview.

Harry stood there for a minute, and then straightened up, shoulders straightening again with his chin held higher.

He had needed to take a moment to lean against someone and Draco was perfectly willing to give it to him.

He switched off the recorder as Susan exited the room, and they watched the man being taken back to his holding chambers.

“Fucking piece of work,” she spat, uncharacteristically angry. “He starved her and beat her. His partner is a woman we went to school with, a year under us. He doesn’t know where she is, but he gave us everything he knew about her. Get in contact with Minerva and some of our younger years, see what they have on her. They got married straight out of Hogwarts, so there has to be more information.”

Harry nodded swiftly, back in investigator mode. “I’ll get in contact with some people I know, and look further into it. I have his Hogwarts file in my office, I’ll give that to you too. We know the girl was an orphan, but I’m still looking into any family she might have had. I’ll see you tomorrow, Susan, bring the case files to my office tomorrow after you question him with veritaserum. He consented to it so we should be able to wrap this up quickly.”

Susan nodded at him, “We’ll watch the recording now; Draco?” she looked at him inquiringly.

“I’ll join you in a moment, Susan, I’ll get some coffee for both of us.” He answered, looking at Harry, and the way his shoulders were still tensed.

He held the crook of Harry’s elbow, taking him out of the room and into the corridor. They walked silently to the lounge that their departments shared, Harry deep in thought the whole way.

“There was something off about him,” Harry said as they walked towards his office. “Something he was hiding. Watch his hands closely during the recording.”

He walked into Harry’s office, and closed the door behind them, pinning Harry with a stare.

“I know that couldn’t have been easy for you, Harry. Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

Harry loosened his tie, sitting on his table. “I’ll be okay soon. It was a bit much, but I want to get this case done. I’ll be home later than you, though, so I expect a bubble bath waiting for me, preferably with you in it.”

Draco laughed, crossing the room in a few quick strides to tilt his head up and press his lips against his fiancée’s.

His _fiancée_. He had a fiancée now.

Harry deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Draco and pulling him closer. Draco wasn’t used to tilting his head upwards while kissing Harry. Harry broke off the kiss, and Draco could feel less tension in him than when they had started.

Draco wanted nothing more than to stay here, but he had work to do. “I’m going to leave before we get carried away and I miss the entire recording,”

“I have a meeting now anyways,” Harry sighed, grabbing a file filled with his papers containing his messy scrawl. He stood up and put it next to him as Draco reached up to straighten Harry’s tie.

He could feel Harry’s gaze on his fingers as they quickly tightened it against his throat.

“Meet up at 2 for lunch?” Draco asked after tightening the tie against his collar.

“Sure,” Harry shrugged. “I’ll be done by then,” he added, handing the file that was previously in his hand to Draco. Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“The information that Susan asked for.” He clarified.

Draco nodded, tucking it under his arm. He turned to leave and stopped when He heard Harry’s voice.

“Draco-”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Thank you. I feel a little better after this.”

Draco smiled softly at him, a smile that no one but Harry had seen. He walked out, only pausing at the doorway.

“I’ll always be here for you Harry. Especially when you need a bubble bath partner.”

He could hear Harry’s laughter until he closed the door and walked the floor up to his department, mood sufficiently lifted.

**AUGUST** **2006**

**Draco POV**

Draco looked down at their joined hands.

He had felt the texture of those hands multiple times in his life so far.

As they pulled him from the flames that would have otherwise killed him. As they shook his hand after once again saving his future. As they grabbed his leg in hand to hand combat. As they caressed his face when he had nearly died. As they slid an engagement ring over his finger.

As they skimmed his body, leaving hot trails of fire in their wake.

Harry's hands were in his as they said their vows. Scarred, and rough from a lifetime of work. The hands that he loved.

Draco ran a finger over the raised words on the back of Harry’s hands. He didn't need to look; he knew them better than his own.

It was the happiest day of his life.

He had always known what his wedding would be like as a child, the stuffy atmosphere in the manor’s gardens, with an equally stony-faced pureblood woman opposite to him as they stiffy recited their magical vows.

Walking down to their wing in the manor and dropping their fake smiles and walking to different rooms as soon as the doors were closed.

Instead, he had gotten the small, magical ceremony that he had always dreamt of.

They were wearing color-coordinated robes that Draco had picked out, a blend of muggle and magical styles. Their rings were simple, engraved, with a small jewel.

Harry’s hair was cut short for the first time since they had gotten together. When Ginny had checked on Draco before the wedding, the only information that she had given them was that it had her nearly forty-five minutes to style Harry’s hair.

His nervousness had eased a little as he had laughed, his mother and Blaise smiling at the mental image.

It was beautiful.

The weather was warm, and the leaves were slowly turning orange, a cool breeze occasionally brushing against their faces.

* * *

After they had finished their first dance, Draco had looked over the crowd properly for the first time.

There was the entire Weasley clan, along with Hermione’s and the other Weasley Spouses and their parents.

There was their entire eighth-year group, some of them with their spouses and squealing toddlers.

There was his mother, Aunt Andromeda, and Teddy sitting with their closest family in the front row.

All the professors that had taught them, their DMLE instructors, Harry’s ID trainer, and defense master from when he had been an apprentice in the eighth year, Cassandra Reyes, his partner, and Althea, Harry’s ex-girlfriend from a few years ago.

There was no animosity between them, and Althea had embraced both of them after the ceremony, her one-year-old daughter looking up at them with wide eyes.

The guest list was only family and friends. By some miracle, their wedding date and location hadn’t been leaked. The wizarding world most likely knew that they were getting married sometime this week since they had both taken three weeks off. The date itself hadn’t been made public, and the guest list had only those who they had been comfortable with.

Draco’s father was still in Azkaban, and Harry was in no way willing to invite his Aunt and Uncle, but his cousin Dudley was there.

Dudley was in the middle of their friends and family, his dark-skinned pregnant wife next to him.

* * *

Harry and Draco swayed together during the dance, quietly reveling in each other’s warmth and presence.

Draco knew that he would remember this day with startling clarity.

He would remember the slight scent of citrus as he had leaned down to kiss Harry, the movement coming to him as naturally as breathing. He would remember the loud cheers from everyone as they had finally kissed, now husbands.

He would remember laughing giddily as Harry had rested their foreheads together, his arms resting around Draco’s shoulders and tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He and Harry were dancing as the sun set behind them. They were slowly swaying to the music, listening to the sounds of squealing kids and content adults behind them.

Ron and Bill were dancing with their multiple nieces and nephews, Rose clinging onto Ron’s front, and Victoire, Fred, and Teddy clumsily trying to dance to the music.

Fleur and Percy were chatting quietly with Molly and Lucy in their arms.

Hermione was holding Dominique, Draco’s first godchild, as she spoke to Luna, who was pregnant and had started to show a short while ago.

Ginny was making aggressive waving motions with her arms as she spoke to Angelina, who had one arm resting on her heavily pregnant stomach.

“Second-year Harry and Draco would have had an aneurysm if they saw this,” Harry muttered as they walked towards the dessert table, Draco’s arm curling around his waist as he spoke.

Draco laughed, "Sixth year me might have been okay with this,” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “Well, maybe not with the amount of ginger in my life, but definitely with the fabulous sex.”

Harry laughed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he leaned against Draco. His face was tired, but Draco had never seen such a content look on his face before.

“Uncle Harry, Uncle Draco!” Victoire ran up to them squealing, clutching what looked like a stuffed dragon in her arms.

Harry grinned down at her; all tiredness wiped away from his face as he lifted his niece in all but blood up in the air. He twirled her around, and set her down on the ground, bending down to her height.

Draco saw him passing what looked like a canary cream to her.

“Put this in your Uncle Ron’s desert, okay sweetie?”

Victoire smiled up happily at Draco’s _husband._ He could finally call him that.

“Will he turn into a birdie like Uncle George did last week?” her childish voice was laced in understanding.

Harry nodded conspiratorially, lifting a finger to his lips, and smiled affectionately at her as she walked away. Draco’s heart warmed at the sight.

The entire Weasley family had a love for pranks. It included the friends too; Draco couldn’t remember how many times he and Harry had come home with some weird hair color or feathers in their clothes.

Harry was a natural with children. It had started with caring for Teddy from when he was only a month old and continued to when the various Weasley parents who dropped their kids off at Grimmauld Place when Harry was free.

It wasn’t uncommon for Draco to come home to Harry asleep on the sofa, a dosing child on his chest.

He knew Harry had wanted kids, and as Harry stood back up, sighing contentedly as Draco kissed his temple, he knew it was something that would be in their future.

“How many do you want one day?” Draco asked, gently tugging Harry to a loveseat nearby for them to sit.

They collapsed into the seat, smiling at each other as they watched Teddy and Victoire chase each other around the gardens, Ron tiredly running after them with feathers all over his face.

“At least one, maybe two or three,” Harry answered. “Not for another year, though. I want to soak up every moment of bliss that we can get.”

Draco hummed, right index finger tracing the shape of the constellation that Harry had on his ribs.

“You?” Harry asked, covering Draco’s hand with his own.

“At least two. I was always lonely in the manor, and even though any child of ours would never grow up lonely,” he inclined his head at the many children and pregnant women of their family, “I still think it’ll be nice.”

Harry shifted, pinning him with his famous green-eyed stare.

“Would it be socially acceptable for us to leave within the next hour? I know we have a flight to catch tonight so we have to leave early anyway, but I want to get home.”

“Sure,” Draco said, his fingers changing path and moving slightly downwards.

“Draco-” Harry swatted his hand away. “There are children here.”

Draco laughed; he couldn’t help himself. He was too happy to care about what people thought, but he moved his hand further upwards anyways.

They stood up to say their goodbyes, their old auror trainer the first one to meet them.

“Potter, Malfoy,” He greeted. “It’s good to see you both so happy, I remember how close you both were in training.”

Harry smiled at their old instructor, “It’s Potter-Malfoy now.” Draco couldn’t help the wide smile that took over his face. “And thank you, it means a lot.”

* * *

It wasn’t long before they apparated back to their house after embracing all their friends. Their friends had surprised them by coming together and paying for their honeymoon as a wedding gift since they already had a fully functional house.

They didn’t know where the location was, only that they were using muggle means to get there.

The location would only be visible to them when they boarded their flight.

\--

Harry and Draco were in the lounge in the airport, bundled up in sweaters. Both of them touched their wedding rings every few seconds, smiling at each other in disbelief every time they caught each other’s eye.

The lady at the ticket counter had made them feel slightly awkward as she checked over their tickets a few minutes ago.

“Going on a boy’s trip together dearies? It’s so nice to see friends spend so much time together.”

Normally they would have said something, but this was a muggle woman and it was their wedding night.

“Yeah,” Harry had said, shooting a wry look at Draco as he had pretended to check his nails, bored air of indifference practically radiating off of him. “Boy’s trip.”

They had laughed about it on the plane, and in the hotel room bed as Harry was curled on top of Draco’s chest, Draco tracing their matching sectumsemptra scars on his bare chest.

Harry leaned on his elbow, his chain with the small moon pendant hanging down, tickling Draco’s ear.

“I know Hermione chose the location.” He said. Draco stopped moving his fingers, looking tiredly up at Harry.

“Hmm?” Draco asked. He was exhausted. First the wedding, then the flight, and then his first time taking his husband to bed. His fingers continued moving, nails scratching lightly over a love bite on Harry’s collarbone.

Harry shivered. “Tell me what you know about this place, you studied pretty much every country in the world as a child.”

Draco flopped onto his back, hitching the blanket higher up his chest for warmth.

“Cape Verde,” he recited. “Island country off the coast of Africa. Official languages are Portuguese and Creole, one of which I speak,” Draco shot a superior look at Harry.

“You told me all of that,” Harry said, long used to Draco’s antics. “And I know Mione wouldn’t let us go somewhere where gay sex is illegal,”

Ah, so that’s what he was talking about. Harry continued to talk, lying back down and nuzzling his head into the crook of Draco’s neck.

“Also, we kissed in front of the hotel and no one batted an eyelash. I’m not used to that happening in the muggle sector of a lot of places.”

His voice was sleepy now, he sounded like he was drifting off. Draco turned towards Harry, resting his head on top of his and wrapping his hand around Harry’s waist and pulling him closer against him.

“Same-sex activity has been legal here for a few years, which is probably why Hermione chose this place,” He brushed his lips across Harry’s forehead.

He paused, looking at the face of his husband, tucked comfortably against him, his phoenix tattoo glinting on his bare back.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“How do you think the Wizarding world would react to knowing that their savior is the little spoon?”

He felt Harry smiling against his neck. “Shut up.”

**AUGUST** **2007**

**Draco POV**

When Draco reached home after a long day of work, he usually knew what he was coming home to. His husband, if he had gotten off work earlier. His nephew, goddaughter, or any other of the Weasley children. One of his friends maybe, if they had the day off.

Sometimes it was even his mother and aunt, who came for tea once a week.

Harry had missed an appointment that they had today, so he assumed he was working late or in deep in his casework.

If it had been a weekend, they could have joined their friends in a pub night, or a club night if they were feeling particularly energetic and someone was willing to babysit.

What he didn’t expect, was to find Harry dozing at the table. Harry had been sleeping well for the past few days, so it was slightly unusual to find Harry asleep. At the table, at that.

“Harry,” Draco shook his husband’s shoulder gently. “Everything alright?”

Harry slowly blinked his eyes, groaning as he got up. “What-” He looked up at the clock and nearly jumped up.

“Luna’s appointment. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I-”

Draco put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and steadied him. “Luna’s fine.” He reassured. “Ginny and I were there, and _she’s_ fine too.”

Harry sagged in relief, bringing all the papers that were together on the table together and arranging them in some pattern that Draco didn’t care to analyze.

“I know she would have liked it if I was there but I just got a new case, and-” Harry paused, turning to Draco. “Wait, _she?_ ”

Draco smiled wildly at Harry, pulling him onto his feet. “She.” He said. “We’re going to have a daughter.”

Harry sank back into his chair, features etched in awe. “Holy freaking fuck.” He said.

Draco sat down on the table in front of him. “I know. We’re going to be parents soon.”

“Merlin,” Harry breathed, and surged forward to kiss Draco, sudden and firm. Draco tangled his hand in Harry’s hair. He was slowly growing it out again. They broke apart and grinned widely at each other.

Draco moved forward to kiss Harry, this time pulling him to his feet. Harry wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer, nearly upsetting his balance.

Draco gripped Harry’s hip to stop himself from falling and felt plaster under his hands. He froze, tilting his head further downwards and pushing Harry’s waistband down until he could see what his hand came in contact with.

It was a white plaster, stuck over the side of his hip. Draco couldn’t see what was under it and ran a finger over it lightly, the material scratchy.

He glared accusingly up at Harry. “I would have been notified if you were injured.” It was a statement, but Draco knew Harry could sense the question in it too.

Harry smiled sheepishly down at him; his lips slightly swollen. “I’m pretty sure you know what it is.”

Draco hummed, not annoyed at Harry for not telling him. “Another tattoo then? It’s been a while since you’ve gotten one.”

Harry ran his hand over the plaster, and it came loose under his fingers. He pulled it off, and Draco leaned closer to see what it was. As soon as he moved, Harry gripped his shoulder.

“Can you not… be that close? Teddy is coming over in ten minutes and I want to be able to fly.”

Draco’s lips tipped up in a smirk, leaning even closer, the tip of his nose touching Harry’s hip. He exhaled softly and knew Harry could feel it by the way he stiffened.

“I don’t think so.” Draco smiled. “You didn’t tell me about the tattoo after all.”

Harry’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “It was meant to be a surprise. Look at it properly.”

Draco shifted his gaze to the tattoo and exhaled in disbelief. “Oh,” He said, looking back up to Harry, who was still looking down at him.

The numbers 500, 50, and 1000 were etched in ink, still, over the date of their wedding. The tattoo was muggle, unlike the other ones Harry had, which explained the plaster.

“ _oh._ ”

He ran a finger over the ink, black over Harry’s light brown skin.

“Five hundred, fifty, one thousand,” Draco said. “D, L, M.”

Harry hummed in agreement.

“I know. I had it done today afternoon. I healed it, but I wanted to keep the plaster on until later.”

“Today is certainly a day of surprises,” Draco said, still surprised. “I don’t even know what to say, Harry.”

“Don’t say anything then,” Harry spoke, “Just kiss me.”

Draco slowly stood back up, still slightly in surprise from his husband’s gesture.

Harry looped his arms around Draco’s shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck the way he had done for years. He tilted his head upwards and Draco met him halfway, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and tugging him closer.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents,” Harry muttered in between kisses. “I can’t wait.”

Draco smiled into the kiss. He opened his mouth to say something but the roaring of the floo interrupted him.

Teddy jumped in, hair Dark and eyes green the way it usually was when he was around Harry.

He took one look at them and turned around, miming gagging. “Gross, Harry. No one wants to see their godfather snogging their uncle in the kitchen. I’m turning back around now, and if you guys are still sucking face then I’m turning around and going to Aunt Hermione’s place.”

Harry laughed, and they separated, Teddy slowly walking towards them with his fingers covering his eyes. “Grandma says I’m here for the week, so _please_ don’t do that where I can see.”

Draco leaned against the counter, loosening the cuffs on his sleeves as Harry put his case files away.

“Hey Ted,” he said, and Teddy dropped his hands down from his face. “How do you feel about a little sister?”

**EPILOGUE**

**SEPTEMBER 2019**

**Aster POV**

Aster had been waiting for this day for years, ever since Teddy had told her about Hogwarts when she was a toddler. It was one of her earliest memories. Teddy had been a fourth-year Hufflepuff.

She remembered them swinging her around, her Aunt Ginny shrieking at them to be careful. She had been only four, and Teddy had been one of her first role models.

That hadn’t changed, she thought, as she folded her robes into her trunk. Teddy was still her role model, and other than her parents and younger sister, Teddy was the one person she was closest to.

She was nervous for Hogwarts, sure. But she was also excited. All her older cousins had gone to Hogwarts before her. She, Hugo, and Lissa were the only ones left. She was the third youngest of the Weasley clan, Hugo, and Lissa being the only ones younger than her.

Teddy was the oldest, a decade older than her. Next was Victoire, their fiancée.

After that, it was a mess of Kids.

Teddy, Victoire, and Fred had already Graduated. Teddy, four years ago, Victoire two, and Fred the previous Year.

Molly would Graduate this year, and then it was Dominique, Rose, and then Louis two years after that.

Luc- Luke and Roxanne were three and two years older than Aster respectively, and were two years above her in school.

Then it was Leo, who was only a year above her in school. She and Hugo would be the last ones to go until Lissa followed her in a few years.

It was crazy for her to think about it. She would be one of the last of her numerous cousins to go until the next generation of kids were born. They were split up among all the houses, the Weasley clan.

Teddy had been a Hufflepuff like their mum, and Molly and Roxanne were currently in Hufflepuff; Molly would be Head Girl this year, A fact Uncle Percy was extremely proud of.

Victoire had been in Ravenclaw and Dominique had been quick to follow in the footsteps of her older sister.

Aster was personally hoping to get into Ravenclaw herself. She knew Aunt Pansy had a bet on which house she was going to be in, however hard she denied it.

Aunt Pansy, Uncle Charlie, and Uncle Blaise were the only ones in her family to not have children.

Aunt Pansy and her husband had split when Aster was very young, and she had never wanted children anyway.

Uncle Blaise and Uncle Charlie had never married, choosing to devote themselves to their respective careers instead. Uncle Blaise was Lissa’s godfather.

Fred and Louis were in Gryffindor, and Aster knew Hugo wanted to follow them into the house of the brave.

Leo, Luke, and Roxanne had ended up in Slytherin. Aster knew that her father wanted her to end up in Slytherin, but she supposed that was only because he had bet on it.

Her family bet on _everything._

Daisy was in Slytherin too, though she didn’t interact with the Weasley kids much, other than Leo and Hugo.

She was only a year older than Aster, and the two were pretty close.

She knew her Grandma and Daisy's grandma had been sisters and that her dad hadn’t been treated very well by their family.

Daisy and Leo were the ones who Aster was directly related to. Her dad and Daisy’s dad, Uncle Dudley were first cousins. Aunt Luna and Father were second cousins, so Leo was her third cousin.

She was related to the rest of the Weasleys distantly, through Grandpa Arthur’s mother Cedrella, Teddy, her father, and even her dad’s ancestors by extension.

Her family was insane and messy. She knew about the war, and the part her family had played in it. She would be joining almost all of them in Hogwarts this year, leaving Lissa to be spoilt by all the relatives since she was the only one left.

“You about done there?” Her dad’s slightly amused voice carried through her room.

She looked up to see him leaning against the doorway, arms folded across his chest. He was already wearing his formal clothes, and Aster had no doubt he and Father would be leaving straight for the ministry after work.

Her dad was the head of the Investigative Department, and she knew he was going to be promoted to head of DMLE within the next ten years.

Her father was one of the ministry’s senior-most Aurors and potions experts. She knew her father had been offered the Head auror position, one that would give him great political influence.

When she had asked him why he had declined it, he had chuckled, running a hand through her hair.

“I’ve had enough of politics in my life, love. I’ll let your dad deal with them instead.” That had been a few years ago, and the question hadn’t come up again, though she knew the offer still stood.

Now, she grinned up at her dad.

“Almost,” she said, standing up. “Is Teddy coming with us?”

“Of, course they are,” Dad assured. “There’s no way they would miss your big day.”

He walked into her room, taking in the neutral decorations and the framed photo of her family on her bedstand.

“It’s going to be so quiet without you in here,” he said wistfully. “I remember feeling like this while sending Teddy off too. You were only a baby, but he was most sad about leaving you.”

She reached over and hugged her dad around the middle, silencing him. They stood there silently for a few seconds.

She loved her parents so much. She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes at the thought of not seeing them until Christmas, but she refused to let them fall. She wanted this day to be happy.

She felt another pair of arms encircle them and glanced up to see her father smiling down at her, his face holding the same wistful expression that her dad did.

“Lissa must be feeling left out,” he drawled, his voice warm and affectionate. Her dad smiled at him.

“I would love to continue this hug fest,” her father continued. “But we don’t want to miss the train, do we? I’ll get Lissa ready and you finish packing,”

She discreetly wiped at the corner of her eyes while her parents exchanged a few short words.

She could still see her parent’s love going strong after all these years. They had moved into their home nearly twenty years ago, and other than a few renovations, it hadn’t changed much from what Aster knew.

* * *

When she ran into platform 9 3/4, her Dad by her side, a flurry of movement caught her eye. The entire Weasley Clan had come to see the children off. She could see Teddy and Victoire, the engagement ring on Victoire’s left hand catching the light as she waved her hands around while speaking.

Her dad broke off from them to greet Uncle Dudley.

“Leo!” she heard Aunt Ginny Shriek. “If I hear a single complaint from Professor McGonagall this year, I swear to god, I will ban you from flying for an entire summer.”

Leo slipped out of his mother’s reach, shooting a sheepish glance at Aster’s dad who had noticed Aunt Ginny screaming. He walked towards her and Lissa with a grin.

He ruffled Lissa’s short hair and looped his long arms around Aster’s neck, his ginger hair obscuring her sight for a second.

“Where are the parents?” He murmured, discreetly slipping some Wheezes pranks into the pocket of her robes as he released her.

She grinned at him, subtly inclining her head to where they were greeting the rest of the family.

“I got my set and Hugo’s; Father hasn’t checked my bag since last night. Teddy said he’ll send the map to me by mail, and the cloak is in my trunk.”

He grinned even wider. “Brilliant. Hogwarts won’t know what hit it.”

“Teaching my daughter how to prank, Leo?” Leo jumped as her dad materialized next to him.

She could never figure out how her dad did that. He seemingly appeared out of nowhere and walked soundlessly no matter where he went. It made it very tough for her to prank him.

Leo smiled sheepishly up at her dad. “Sorry, Uncle Harry.” He said, not sounding sorry at all.

Her dad sighed and flicked Leo’s ear gently.

“It would be both foolish and hypocritical to tell you to stay out of trouble,” he addressed both of them. “Especially considering all the trouble our whole family got into when we were at Hogwarts.”

His eyes twinkled at them. “I suppose it would only be fair if I gave you this and told you to keep one thing in mind. I took this from Teddy after they graduated, they knew I was giving this to you.”

Aster and Leo gaped at her dad when he brought an old piece of parchment from his pocket.

“It’s your legacy, both of you.” He pointed his wand at the sheet and winked at them. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Aster nearly shrieked with joy, wrapping her arms around her dad. He laughed, hugging her back, and leaned down until he was at her height.

She could see Leo walking back to his parents and his cousin Rose, and looked at her Dad.

He took a minute to look at her. She knew she looked a lot like father, with her pale skin, high cheekbones, and light hair. But her eyes, those were all dad’s.

“I’m sure you know that your Father and I didn’t have the most pleasant Hogwarts experience,” he said, running a thumb over her cheek. “But for both of us, it was always home. I only hope that you can find the same in it.”

All she could do was nod, her throat thick with emotion.

It wasn’t long before she hugged all her numerous Aunts and Uncles, Teddy, her parents, and sister. She climbed the Hogwarts express, Daisy and Hugo hot on her heels, and paused to look out of the window of the train.

Her parents were standing outside watching her, her father’s arm around Dad’s waist and Dad’s hand on Lissa’s shoulder.

She waved at them as the train started, knowing that she would see them soon.

She swallowed down her wistfulness and grabbed Daisy and Hugo’s arms.

“Bloody hell, you two look like night and day,” Hugo exclaimed as they went into an empty compartment. He wasn’t wrong, Aster was extremely pale, and Daisy had taken after her mother’s dark skin.

Aster grinned, at them, opening the compartment for Leo to walk in.

“Never mind that,” she said, bringing out the map, fireworks, and cloak. Her cousins and best friends grinned. “Who do we prank first?”

* * *

**Harry POV**

Teddy came to their house to visit a few hours after they had dropped all the kids off to the station.

They sat down near Harry after he had tucked Lissa into bed.

They had ditched their turquoise hair in favor of a more Harry-Like appearance, one that they often adopted. Harry had spent a lot of time around his godchild as Andy got increasingly older.

They looked startlingly like Harry at the moment, with light brown skin and dark hair, eyes shifting between green and amber every few minutes.

He poured Teddy a mug of tea from their cupboards and set another aside for when Draco would inevitably join them when he returned from his briefings.

Teddy was taller than him now, long and lanky, with turquoise curls.

_Merlin,_ his godchild was engaged now. Teddy was practically a Potter themself. Every year at Christmas, each little family group wore a specific color. Teddy had always worn Potter-Malfoy green, and Victoire had joined them after she graduated from Hogwarts.

Harry sat down quietly with his cup of tea, wrapping his hands around the mug and blowing into it.

The first of September was always sentimental for their family. For Harry and Draco, it was symbolic.

Now that their eldest daughter had left, he felt a sort of wistful nostalgia that he felt whenever he noticed one of his kids, nieces, or nephews looking older.

He supposed it was a part of growing older. Every time he caught a glimpse of Teddy’s engagement band, he felt a tug at his heart. He had helped raise Teddy from when they were weeks old. It had been the only thing that had kept him sane at the time.

He had made sure that Teddy always knew that they were loved and valid. Especially when they had sat Harry down at fourteen, looking more nervous and scared than Harry had ever seen them.

“I’m non-binary,” they had whispered. All Harry could do was hold them tight and even tighter when they came out to Draco the next day.

To his credit, his husband had only smiled at Teddy and set the then-toddler Lissa down in favor of hugging them.

Their family had grown increasingly accepting as they grew older when Luna kissed Ginny in the apple orchards, and Harry had to start to bring Draco around as a date rather than a roommate.

Charlie was Aromantic, and with Bisexual Victoire and Non-Binary Teddy, it had given Percy’s youngest come out as trans. He had come out to all of them together, not scared but just slightly nervous as he said that he preferred he/him pronouns and the name Luke rather than Lucy.

Harry had felt that same pride and nostalgia and was the first to embrace his nephew, having been the first openly lgbtq+ member of the family.

He had felt it when Aster had taken her first steps, and then Lissa, and when Teddy graduated.

Harry had been the one to change their nappies, the one to take them to their first day of school. Harry had been the one who McGonagall had floo’d angrily every time they had caused some mischief.

And Harry had been the one who Teddy wanted to walk them down the aisle on their wedding day.

They sat down in silence for a few minutes, both of them undoubtedly thinking of Aster and how she was settling in Ravenclaw.

Teddy cleared their throat.

"Whenever the kids at school brought up that I didn't have parents, I always shot them down. Mum and dad may have died when I was a baby, but I never grew up without a dad. I had a dad in every way that counted. I know I don't have to thank you, Harry. But you were always there. Aster doesn't know how lucky she is. She has you and uncle Draco as parents."

Merlin, today was sentimental enough with him sending off his oldest to Hogwarts.

"And you as an older sibling," Harry said, shifting closer to Teddy. "You were one of the only things that kept me sane after the war, Ted. Everyone had paired up and moved on, and I didn't know what to do. But I had you. I know I don't have to thank you either," he teased. "But you were always a priority."

He paused, cocking his head slightly, bringing attention to the scattered grey hairs that he had started to acquire. "Other than giving you the safe sex talk," he said, "That was a pain in the ass."

Teddy laughed, “If it makes you feel any better, I can give Aster and Lissa the talk when the time comes,”

Harry blanched. It was one thing to get a call saying that his godchild and niece were cozying it up in a broom cupboard. But his daughter? Merlin, that would be horrible.

Teddy laughed harder, clutching at their stomach now. “I can see the look on your face, oh god Harry. You’ll be so shocked when she’s older.”

Harry just pursed his lips together, bringing his tea closer to his face.

Fuck, he was officially old now.

“What’s so funny?”

The voice of his husband didn’t do anything to bring out of his nostalgia.

Both he and Draco hadn’t changed much with age. A few wrinkles there and some gray hairs scattered in was all Harry got. Draco had prominent laugh lines around his eyes, but his hair was just as blond as the day they had gotten married.

Draco’s voice only prompted Teddy to laugh further.

“We were talking about when I gave them the _talk_ ,” Harry grumbled. “And who would be giving it to Aster when the time came.”

Draco hung his robes on a hook and set his phone to charge on the table. He grabbed his mug and sat next to Harry, scowling.

“Absolutely not. Aster is my little girl and we are _not_ talking about this.”

At least his husband agreed with him. Their sixteenth anniversary and his thirty-ninth birthday had passed the previous month, marking an age that none of the marauders had passed.

Yeah, he was _officially_ old now.

Teddy scoffed. “Fine. Would you prefer to discuss wedding details then? I’m sure you, Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur will have a marvelous time with that.”

Harry shared a look with Draco. They had been planning this wedding for six months now, and he was _exhausted_. He had helped plan his best friend’s weddings and his own a few years after that.

“We’re good,” Draco answered, speaking for both of them. “Tell us how training is going then.”

Teddy’s head lolled to the back of the sofa, their arm scrubbing over their face.

“Uncle Bill said it would be tough,” they groaned. “I didn’t know it would be this tough.”

Harry and Draco shared a smile. Oh, to be young and new to your job.

They smiled and laughed appropriately as Teddy complained.

_Sure_ , Harry was growing old. His eldest was at Hogwarts, undoubtedly pranking people with her cousins, with his youngest soon to follow.

His husband’s crow’s feet were becoming more prominent each year. His own hair was starting to grey.

His Godchild would be married this time next year, and start working the year after that.

He had gotten a chance to live, one that his parents and so many others hadn’t.

He felt Draco trace the shape of the tattoo on his back, the dragon curled around Lily, Narcissus, and Aster flowers. The little Teddy bear that was under them.

His family, his home.

It had taken a while for him to realize that home was a feeling, not a place. He had found his home. In the crowded meetings of the department that he was head of, in the occasional lectures he gave at Hogwarts.

Laughing at the burrow, teaching his children how to fly, all three of them.

In the arms of his husband as he listened to his godchild complain about their new job.

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aster and Lissa are Drarry's daughters, Percy's daughter Lucy is trans here, so now it's his son Luke. 
> 
> Leo is Luna and Ginny's son, and Luna was the surrogate for both of Drarry's children
> 
> Draco is Dominique's godfather, and Harry is the godfather to both of Romione's children. 
> 
> Hermione and Ron are godparents to Aster and Blaise and Pansy for Lissa.
> 
> If it wasn't clear in the chapter, Lily+ Narcissa= Lissa, and Aster was named for the Evans and Black family traditions, a flower and a star.
> 
> The tattoo described in Part four is in Roman Numerals, in Draco's initials before he got married.
> 
> I can't believe that this fic is over, leave a comment and tell me what you think :)


End file.
